The Dark Contraband
by littlemissbreanne
Summary: After the night on the Astronomy Tower, Draco Malfoy had gone into hiding & everyone believed he was dead. Now, the Order has a plan for him to help them defeat Voldemort, but he doesn't know their true motives. All he knows is he's being protected by and forced to live with a certain Mudblood. *Follows 7th year and Deathly Hallows* Dramoine (rated M for later chapters)
1. Chapter 1

_Hey guys! It's been awhile since I've written, and I thought that I would try my hand at something new: Dramoine! I have always been a huge fan of Harry Potter, but not so much Harry. From the time I was a young teen, I always shipped Draco and Hermione. I love the shipping because it's the realest and rawest relationship you will ever get. The way people write these stories are amazing. I can't tell you how many tears I've cried and laughs I've laughed reading through these. I can only hope I deliver as much as others before me have. This will follow "The Deathly Hallows" and the beginning through the end of the Wizarding War. Please, if you have any suggestions, feel free to let me know. As always, I love you guys. Thanks for all the continual support after all these years._

* * *

Chapter One: The Moving

The autumn breeze swayed through the branches of the trees behind Snape's cottage. It had brought a chill to the air; the first inclination of fall was chasing summer away until the next year. The leaves had just begun to change, but there was still a good amount of green everywhere you looked. Normally, on a night such as this one, the sun would be shining and the weather warm. However, it was completely opposite: the evening sky was darkened; a storm could be seen in the distance. And it was cool enough to require a light jacket.

Draco Malfoy stood in the center of the isolated yard, looking up at the sky, his grey eyes narrowed. He knew what was coming: his Dark Mark had been burning since yesterday. It stung like a thousand bees constantly harassing him. However, if there was one thing he had learned, it was that pain was just a message. And you could choose to ignore that message, whether it be physical or emotional. For the past six months, he had allowed his parents, and both sides of the coming war, to believe he was dead. Despite what they believed, he was very much alive.

When Draco had failed to kill Albus Dumbeldore nearly six months prior, the Dark Lord had ordered him executed. Luckily for Draco, Snape was able to quickly put the rumor out that he had been killed, the details of which he still did not know. Draco was quickly escorted into hiding, realizing only then that the situation was much bigger than what he had originally thought. He had learned that Snape was a double agent for the Order of the Phoenix and for Voldemort. Of course, he thought Snape was mental for doing so. But, his doing so had saved his life, and for that, he was somewhat grateful. He was hid out at a safehouse in the country of which had no name to him, charmed to keep him from escaping. Like he would have tried. It was only now, when the wind had changed, that Snape had brought him out of his refuge.

He heard the sound of two sets of footsteps behind him, but merely glanced over his shoulder. Out of his puerperal vision, he saw a man in a set of black robes and a long slender body with an elegant dark green dress. It was at that moment when he turned around slowly to see Minerva McGonagall, her hands clasped tightly in front of her, staring at him with the same sharp eyes as she always had. Snape's black eyes told him not to move or to speak, which he did neither.

"Mr. Malfoy," came the Professor's stern voice. "In order to keep you safe –"

"Oh, spare me," Draco rolled his eyes.

"In order to keep you safe," she repeated, harsher this time. "We are moving you somewhere where The Dark Lord will not think to look for you."

"Since when did you care about my safety, you old hag?" he barked. He wasn't sure why her statement had set him ablaze inside; maybe it was because he was tired of hiding. Was this truly how he was going to spend the rest of his days? Bloody hiding!?

"Malfoy," Snape cut in and held up a hand. His eyes were now back to the cold black they always were. "The decision did not come lightly to Minerva. I suggest that you listen and respect her gratitude in the situation."

"If I did not care about your safety, you would probably not be alive to have his conversation," she said shrilly. It made Draco fall silent, an occurrence that was incredibly rare to say the lease. "For the moment, everyone in our world believes you are dead except for the members of the Order who know of your situation. Now, your situation has become more complicated. We have received word that more attacks are being carried out, even in the Muggle world. It is highly likely that Voldemort has spies everywhere, and we cannot risk you being detected."

Draco couldn't hide his sneer. "So I'm staying with you, then? Think I need babysitting, do you?"

Snape and McGonagall met eyes for a brief moment, as if to calculate his response. At that moment, he knew that he was wrong: he wasn't staying with McGonagall. Since that was the case, where the hell were they sending him then?

"No, Mr. Malfoy, I have enough to handle besides babysitting you, nor do I have the time or the patience," McGonagall replied. Draco's eyebrows raised only slightly. "You will be staying with someone whom I believe will keep an eye on you so I don't have too. You will be staying with Miss Granger."

Draco felt as if the blood vessels in his forehead were going to explode. His grey eyes widened to their full capacity and his lips parted, but it took him a few moments to find the appropriate words to describe his shock. "THAT FUCKING MUDBLOOD?"

"You mind yourself, Mr. Malfoy," McGonagall hissed, pointing her finger in his direction.

"SHE LIVES IN THE MUGGLE WORLD!" he bellowed. Never in his life had he been so offended, so outraged. They knew his bloodline, they knew his family. He would be considered a blood-traitor, disowned, never would see a penny of his large Malfoy inheritance, and would go down in history as the only Malfoy heir who was to be protected by a Mudblood. No, absolutely not. They must have been totally mad. "YOU TOLD ME THERE WERE ATTACKS IN THE MUGGLE WORLD! HOW THE HELL ARE WE GOING TO BE SAFE IF THE DEATH EATERS ARE HUNTING MUGGLES AND MUDBLOODS, HMM? EXPLAIN THAT ONE TO ME!"

"This is a temporary solution, Mr. Malfoy," she continued, not breaking her tone or eye contact with the wizard. She was now standing at her full height, and in all of his experiences with her, Draco knew she only did that when she was completely serious. "If you should behave yourself, Miss Granger and yourself are going to come to Hogwarts when the year is to begin."

"COME TO HOGWARTS?" Draco couldn't believe his ears. "I CANNOT GO BACK TO HOGWARTS! I CAN'T BELIEVE YOU TWO EVEN CAME UP WITH THIS FUCKING PATHETIC –"

"Mr. Malfoy, you will stop at once or you will be escorted off these grounds and back to the safehouse from which you came!" McGonagall commanded. Her fingers were tightly gripped together, almost an ashen white now. He could tell she was trying undoubtedly hard to control her temper towards him. Something about that made him feel good, like he was now in control after being out of control for so long. However, that was not the case, and his high did not last long before he realized that they were his only chance of survival.

Once he was visibly calmed down, Snape continued quietly, "The best place to hide you is in visible sight. You will be safer with the Order's presence in the castle."

Draco didn't say a word. Inside, he was still fuming. Pissed off was hardly the word he would choose to describe his feelings at the present moment. He crossed his arms over his chest; it was heavily heaving and his heart was racing faster than the speed of light. Within a few moments, he came to his senses and decided that arguing was the better option.

"You can't force me to stay with the Mudblood," he said plainly.

"You will stop using that word at once, Mr. Malfoy," McGonagall's eyes narrowed into slits. "After Professor Snape informed me of the reality that happened on top of the Astronomy Tower that night, I made a conscious decision to forgive you. Now, I am protecting you and letting you back into the castle. You can choose to accept our help or you can choose not too. I do hope you choose the latter, as it would be much more pleasant for you."

"This is fucking stupid," Draco mused, more to himself than to the two Professor's standing idly in front of him. He knew that McGonagall was right, however. If he refused their help… Well, he didn't want to think about that. He was already permanently scarred from Voldemort… His eyes wandered down to his arm, covered by his black sleeve. All of this was just so fucking stupid.

For a few moments, the Professors, nor their former student said a word. Perhaps it was to see if Draco accepted their proposal, perhaps it was to see if he would challenge them again. He did neither. All that was surrounding them was silence, an eerie silence. The wind had picked back up again, or perhaps Draco hadn't noticed it was there all along. It shuffled between his legs, gently moving leaves between his feet. He watched them, just to focus on something, to forget his current situation. He heard McGonagall stiffen, but he looked the complete opposite direction.

"I speak on his behalf when I say that the silence means he agrees," Snape said, almost cruelly. Almost like he was taunting Draco. But, when Draco looked up angrily to meet his eyes, the look Snape gave him was cold and hard.

"Good," McGonagall said, now more business-like and less treacherous. "We will leave for Miss Granger's at once. Do you have anything you'd like to bring with you?"

Draco found himself staring numbly at the ground. No, he did not. Ever since he went into hiding, he hadn't a penny to his name, just the clothes on his back. Snape would occasionally bring him a change of robes, but they weren't to his fancy. But, they did suit him. He wondered why she had even asked, maybe to make him feel pain, guilty…

"No."

"Then we will be going," she said pointedly. "Any last words you'd like to share with Mr. Malfoy, Severus?"

Snape's black eyes locked onto Draco's grey ones, but there was nothing to say. The pair has spent the majority of the past six months together, and he was Draco's only connection to the outside world. In a way, Draco had learned to appreciate him, and everything he had done to protect him. Now that they were going their separate ways, even if it only was for a month, it seemed as if the cape that kept Draco locked away and alive had burned away.

"This is your only chance," Snape said clearly. Draco may have imagined it, but his tone was an octave louder than it usually was.

* * *

Hermione heard a loud pop outside of her door. She had been sitting in the living room of her family's home, enjoying a nice cup of herbal tea before she was to go to sleep. The pop had startled her to say the least. Quickly, she grabbed her wand off the coffee table, and jumped up. She turned around to see no one in sight. Her pet cat, Crookshanks, looked at her quizzically. When she was sure that she just imagined it and nothing was out of the ordinary, she straightened her pink cardigan and began to descend back upon her couch.

Then came three loud knocks at her front door. A sickening feeling crept up into her stomach as she gripped her wand. Slowly, she rose to her feet and with her wand outstretched, she peeked outside from the window overlooking the bushes outside her home. Two people were standing there; one was in an elegant gown. Confused, she walked over to the door, a little less alarmed, yet still feeling sick to her stomach. She opened the door to see Professor McGonagall, and… Malfoy.

Her hazel eyes narrowed, and Draco had just a moment to realize that Snape nor Professor McGonagall had told the Mudblood about their "arrangement." This frightened him, as it should have. Within a second, her arm was up and her wand pointed directly under his chin.

"You're lucky I don't hex you where you stand," she breathed, her eyes wild, and her lips twitching.

"Shut your face, you fucking –"

"Stop!" McGonagall barked. Hermione refused to put down her wand, and at that point, Draco had raised his own, just in case the Mudblood decided to be irrational. "Miss Granger, put down your wand this instant."

Hermione's wand trembled, but she slowly lowered it to the ground. She felt the warmth of her magic on her fingertips and a spurt of fire shot out of the tip of her wand, hitting Draco in the calf.

"Fuck! What the fuck, you stupid little –"

"I'm stupid? I fail to see how that is even –"

"Fucking Mudblood! You will regret that!"

"Oh, so we've resorted to name calling? How mature of you!"

"That is quite enough!" McGonagall said shrilly. For the second time that night, she had to use that tone of voice. Hermione looked at her, her eyes still wild, her mouth hanging halfway open.

"NO! He was going to kill Dumbeldore! How could you even be with him after that? Why are you with him? What the hell is going on here!?" Hermione stood on the spot, tears now in her bloodshot eyes. "He was supposed to be DEAD!"

"No, I can assure you, Granger, I am very much alive," Draco sneered. Hermione's eyes narrowed as they darted back and forth between him and McGonagall.

"May we come inside, Miss Granger?" McGonagall asked, her tone even.

"NO! I refuse to let _HIM_ into _MY_ home!" screamed Hermione.

"Hermione, you must listen," McGonagall said sternly. "We cannot have this conversation out on your doorstep."

"Like hell we can't!" she spat back, her eyes still darting wildly from the woman who she once thought she trusted and her worst enemy, Draco Malfoy. When her eyes landed on Draco, his bore back into hers, narrowed and full of rage. Obviously he did not want to be there, so why did McGonagall drag him along with her? There were so many answers she wanted before anything happened.

"Hermione," McGonagall began again. The young witch realized that the Professor was using her first name, maybe even trying to sympathize with her. With sense overfilling her, Hermione stepped to the side, allowing the Professor to pass. However, when Draco took a step forward, she raised her wand again. He scowled.

"You are going to stay outside," she told him coolly.

"Don't be a bloody idiot," Draco started but the tip of Hermione's wand began to glow a burnt orange, and Draco took a step back. "Whatever then."

As soon as McGonagall was inside of the threshold, Hermione turned to face her, wand down, yet still full of rage.

"Why is he here?" she barked. Out of all the things that could've possibly happened tonight, this was probably the worst. She was not about to let her questions go unanswered, even it was the Headmistress of Hogwarts inside her home.

"Hermione, you must listen and you must not interrupt. You cannot repeat this to anyone, not even Mr. Potter and Mr. Weasley. It is of the utmost important, Hermione. Do you understand?" McGonagall asked, her eyes fixed on the young witch's. Hermione gave the tiniest nod. "Voldemort gave Draco the task of killing Albus, but as you know, he did not kill him. That was Voldemort's plan all along. Albus asked Professor Snape to kill him if Mr. Malfoy could not –"

"How do you know any of this?"

"Albus told me, Hermione. Snape killed him, and to protect Mr. Malfoy from certain death, Professor Snape began telling everyone that Mr. Malfoy had died. He hid Draco away from everyone for months –"

"But why would he do that? And what does that have to do with us?"

McGonagall took a deep breath. "Severus is a spy. He is working for the Order."

Hermione flinched. She didn't believe it… How could she? The man who killed Albus Dumbledore, the man she had loathed all these years, was helping them? It didn't seem plausible, it didn't seem right, it didn't make any sense. But, then again, somehow it did.

"That still doesn't explain why Malfoy is on my doorstep."

"Professor Snape made an Unbreakable Vow with Narcissa Malfoy, Draco's mother, almost a year ago. It was to protect him. Now it is up to us to protect him."

"What? Why?"

"Because Voldemort is getting too close. If he finds Mr. Malfoy, he will torture him, and he will kill him in the most evil of ways. He will make an example out of him to the young Death Eaters, and to his parents."

"I thought his parents were Voldemort's biggest supporters." Hermione's hazel eyes narrowed.

"That is not entirely true. However, do you remember when Lucius failed to retrieve the prophecy for Voldemort in the Ministry of Magic? Voldemort's way of punishing Lucius was to put his son on a suicide mission, knowing that whatever the outcome, if Mr. Malfoy killed Albus or not, Mr. Malfoy would die."

"That's incredibly barbaric! But, that still doesn't explain why he is here, on _my_ doorstep."

"Hermione, you are going to protect him. He is staying with you for the next month, and then you will be coming back to Hogwarts as Head Girl—"

"Head Girl? Thank you, Professor, but I don't see –"

"You can do more of your research to help the Order there, plus the increased presence of the Order in the castle will be useful in your protection and Mr. Malfoy's, as well."

"The attacks on Muggles have been so high, Professor. I don't think this is wise, even if it's for a month and besides, I hate him _. I hate him_ , Professor, and _he_ hates me. You don't understand, it's almost pure rage I have for him. I can't do it, I'm sorry. There has to be another person, someone in the Order who can do this…"

"Hermione, you are a brave and strong woman. That is why I'm giving this task to you. I have too much to do with the Order and with Hogwarts to risk throwing Mr. Malfoy into the mix. Please, do this for the Order, for the greater good, and for Albus. You know he would've wanted you too."

The way McGonagall used Professor Dumbledore's wants against her like that made Hermione want to cringe. But, she understood now, even if it was only partially. Malfoy was human too… Even if he didn't act like one or treat others with the same amount of dignity. Her bottom lip quivered as she remembered Dumbledore, remembered the oncoming war, remembered the fighting… But, most of all, remembered how the names Malfoy called her once hurt her, remembered the pain and the anguish she had felt for most of her childhood knowing him. She didn't know if she could do this…

"Okay," she whimpered. "Okay."

"It'll be okay," McGonagall assured her.

At that moment, Hermione was not convinced at what the older witch had just told her. Even as she looked out the window and saw the white-blonde hair that always made a pit of fire grow in her stomach, she was questioning why she was doing this. But, for the greater good… That's all she had to keep telling herself. This was for the greater good.


	2. Chapter 2

_Good morning all. It is currently 9:05am where I live, and I'm sitting in bed, just woken up with fresh ideas. I have a feeling this story is going to captivate me for a long time, and I am totally okay with that. :D As always, leave me reviews. I would LOVE that! And I do want to press on the fact that a lot of Dramoine stories are going to along the same lines, especially if you want to stay canon, like most people I do. In my experiences, I'm okay with that because everyone brings a different spice to their story. I want to stay as true as possible to the books. :D Without further ado, let's see how our two heroes take their first few days together._

Chapter Two: Intolerance

It wasn't long after Professor McGonagall left that reality had begun to sink in for both of them. Hermione was still completely livid that her enemy was in her home, and Draco wasn't a fan of it himself. Even as he made his way through the threshold and into the home, it wasn't like he had imagined. It was plain, ordinary, nothing like the darkness and vast of Malfoy Manor. And most of all, it was small. He _hated_ small spaces. Uttering a few swear words under his breath, he surveyed his new accommodations. Hermione just barely heard " _Mudblood"_ on his lips and spun around.

Draco met her hazel eyes, his cold and unforgiving. Hermione's pink lips pursed. Just as long as he was stuck here, he decided to make it so she was in as much hell as he was. With a smirk, he leaned a tad closer to her, knowing that she had heard him and a variety of insults were already on the tip of his tongue.

"What, you filthy little bitch?" he sneered. He could see the anger in the witch's eyes, as he was satisfied with his accomplishment.

"I may not like having you here, but you need to understand that both of us have to tolerate it," she responded through her teeth.

"Oh, there you go with that Gryffindor reasoning, Granger," Draco rolled his grey eyes. "I could just leave."

Hermione's eyes narrowed. "Go right ahead, see what happens."

A sudden realization came to Draco. Obviously, before she had left, that old bitch had placed wards around the Mudblood's home, as to prevent Draco from escaping this prison. Like he would try to escape… Where would he even go? With a scowl, he walked over to the door, opened it, and tried to place his hand outside. It was met with a sizzle, and he yelped when he saw the red burns on the tips of his fingers.

"This is bullshit," he growled loudly, loud enough for Hermione to clench her teeth.

"You will be sleeping in the guest room," Hermione said and directed him upstairs.

"I would rather sleep with a hypogriff," Draco mused with daggers for eyes.

"Suit yourself and sleep on the floor. It's not like I give a shit," she threw back. With that, she turned her back to him and headed into the living quarters.

"I wasn't done!" he yelled after her, but she ignored him. Hastily, looking for any reason to argue, he followed her. "I wasn't done talking to you!"

"I'm done talking," Hermione said, picking up her tea off of the coffee table. Draco's eyes followed her as she made her way around the couch, and going through the threshold to head upstairs.

"Too fucking bad!" Draco continued to follow her.

"Malfoy, get away from me before I force you to get away," she said, finally heading up the stairs. Tonight had already been crazy enough… She didn't need a pissed off Slytherin following her every move and screaming insults at her. In fact, all she wanted to do was sleep.

"I am not going anywhere, Mudblood!" he spat.

Hermione wasn't sure why that particular statement made a fire burn inside her abdomen, but for some reason, it did. She set her tea on the banister and pulled her want from her back pocket, raising it to Draco at the bottom of the stairs. In turn, he raised his, itching for a duel. The look in her eyes was somewhat revenant. She hated him, and she wasn't afraid to show it. Equally, he hated her, hated all of her kind. He wasn't about to back down from her. For a few moments, both of them stood, holding their wants to one another. The tip of Hermione's wand was starting to admit that burnt orange glow again. This time, Draco was prepared, and his began to glow a shade of soft amber.

"I won't tell you again," she said, her tone as cold as the snowflakes that fell in the middle of winter.

"You don't tell me what to do, you vile excuse for a witch!" he shot back.

It was he, instead of her, that had initiated the hex that shot out of his wand. But, she was ready.

" _Finite Incantatum!"_ she yelled, stopping the hex halfway up the stairs. She swirled her want and with a quick, " _Expelliarmus!"_ she disarmed Draco and caught his want in midair.

Draco stood at the bottom of the stairs, his eyes wide and angry. His breath was ragged, his lips pressed tightly together. There were a million words that came to his mouth, yet none of them were able to slip out. Oh, he wanted too, in the worst kind of way, but something in his pit of his stomach, reason or otherwise, told him that fighting with her right now was not the best idea. He watched in almost agony as Hermione pocketed his wand. In an act of despair, Draco began running up the steps only to be met with a jinx that sent him flying back down the stairs and against the wall behind him. With a groan, he crumpled to the ground. Building up enough effort, he looked up to Hermione, who just huffed, grabbed her tea, and proceeded upstairs, presumably to her room.

When she got into her room, she pointed her wand at the door and whispered " _Colloportus_ ", sealing the door in case the angered Slytherin wanted to instigate her further. Hermione slowly sat down on her bed, feeling the poke of his wand in her back pocket. She pulled it out, and set it in the second drawer of her bed side table, also locking it. There was no reason to let him have it if all he was going to do was abuse it. Then again, was she even remotely surprised? No.

All of this slowly started coming back to her, as she realized the predicament she was in. For the time being, they were safe in her house. Not two weeks ago, she had _Obliviated_ her parents in order to protect them, and sent them to Australia. That had been the hardest thing she had ever done, but she did it to keep them safe. She couldn't let anything bad happen to them, not because of her. Never once since she found out she was a witch had she doubted her ability, her place in the wizarding world. Not when Malfoy through his taunts at her, not with everything she, Harry, and Ron had been through. But, now, a creep of doubt submerged itself in her mind. Tears welled up in her eyes, and she softly casted a silencing charm on her door as well just in case Malfoy decided to come up to the guest room. She didn't want him to hear her crying. Hermione would never admit if she was inferior because she truly believed she wasn't. But, right now, she couldn't help but wonder what her life would have been like if she never would have been a witch.

* * *

Rays of sunlight streamed through the back sliding glass doors of Hermione's home as the sun rose the next morning. They were warm and comforting. Draco's eyes shifted as he awoke, but he was warm, and for the moment, comfortable. Until he heard noises coming from the kitchen. Carefully, he raised his head to see the Mudblood making herself something to drink. From the looks of it, it looked like tea. But, she was making it the way Muggles made it. Just something else that made her completely subordinate to him.

The smell of the tea reached his nostrils, and he couldn't help but feel slightly calmer. Even now, in his current situation. But, he didn't sleep well that night. Nightmares still haunted his dreams… He felt as though he hadn't gotten any sleep at all. Hermione poured herself a cup of tea. Merlin, she was still in her night clothes: a plain pair of pink shorts, and a white t-shirt. Her hair was curly, brown, messy, and untamed. He didn't know how she dealt with it. He watched as she took her cup of tea and sat down at the kitchen table, parallel to where he was now. There were papers and books all over that table, of which he had inspected last night. It was funny that she didn't hide them from him; he was sure that she would have. He carefully lifted himself off of the couch and smoothed down his black shirt, ready for another day of insults. Draco had enough ready to spat out for a lifetime.

When he stood up, Hermione's eyes only looked up slightly. She was trying her best to ignore him; she thought it was best that way. Last night was apparently a restless night for the both of them, as she had heard him whimpering all the way from her bed. It had added a certain amount of humanity to him, even as he stood before her now. She looked down at her papers, scattered books, and notebooks. With a pencil in her fingers, she began to scribble down words that really meant nothing to her at the time. She was more concerned about Harry and Ron's well-being, and since Draco had showed up on her doorstep not as much as twenty-four hours ago, they had possessed her thoughts.

"You can't help your friends, Granger. For all you know, they're dead," Draco spat, breaking the silence.

"They aren't dead," Hermione said. She seemed quite sure, even though it had been months since she had spoken to them.

"Oh, you really think that Weasel has survived this long? Psh, he can't even make a simple potion let alone survive out there for months. I wouldn't be surprised if we found his body in the woods somewhere, died of illness. Or even better, splinched." A flicker of anger crossed Hermione's eyes. "Oh, I forgot you two were in some sort of sick relationship. Pathetic. Who would ever degrade themselves as low as to be with a Mudblood?"

Hermione had to choose her battles wisely. Walking away was always something she was good at, so that's exactly what she did. Her chair scooted backwards with ease, and she pushed past Draco without meeting his eyes. For a moment, Draco thought to grab her arm, to stop her from leaving. Was he really that desperate for company? Even from a Mudblood? Even then, he let her go for a few moments before turning back and watching her go up the stairs. He decided now may be a good time to follow her. He watched her feet go up the stairs, and he followed her until about halfway when he got a feeling in the pit of his stomach that she was going to turn around and jinx him again. But, she didn't. It occurred to him that she had also taken his wand – for all he knew, she had broken it. If she did, he swore she would rue this day…

"Granger! Mudblood!" he yelled as she stomped into the bathroom.

The upstairs of the house was just as small. There was a lot of white, too much white. Draco caught sight of her in the mirror of the bathroom right before she slammed the door in his face. He didn't know what he was doing at that point; he didn't even know what he wanted to argue about. Just argue, yell, scream, something. His hand was on the knob to the bathroom, but it wouldn't budge. The bitch must've cast a lock charm on the door. He pounded against the door in a fierce rhythm.

"Open this fucking door, Granger, or I swear –"

"Leave me alone!" she screamed back.

"Give me back my fucking wand, you –"

"You aren't getting your wand back, Malfoy!"

"YOU WILL GIVE ME MY FUCKING WAND!" he roared at the door, both his fists pounding on it now. His face was so close to the white wood that he could see where the paint was beginning to chip away. His heart was racing fast now.

"NO!" she yelled back. "I WILL NOT BE AFRAID TO LIVE IN MY OWN HOME BECAUSE OF YOU!"

"GIVE IT BACK OR YOU'LL HAVE BIGGER PROBLEMS TO WORRY ABOUT!"

He heard the water turn on from the shower. With a defeated sigh, he realized that the conversation was over. His eyes were drooping now, and he came to the realization that he truly needed sleep. Some good and decent sleep. Somehow, his back was against the door now. He slid down it, listening to the water run. It was somewhat soothing, soothing enough for his grey eyes to droop into slits. He heard a light thud and realized that must have been her clothes. The thought of her naked repulsed him, but the sound of the water was comforting him. It became uneven when she stepped into the shower, but none the less, he took the few minutes of comfort he had before picking another fight.

Hermione dropped to sit down in the shower. The water poured over her and she tried to stiffen tears. This was too much. If this was going to be every day for the next month, she couldn't live with it. And then afterwards, when both of them returned to Hogwarts, what was that going to be like? She had made a conscious decision downstairs that she was going out. She had made plans to go to the library anyway. She leaned back against the back of the tub, closing her eyes. Draco hadn't come with any clothes… Why did she suddenly just realize that? Although he had always been an arrogant prude, he deserved to have at least a change of clothes. When she went out, she would go get him some clothing. Damn her for always trying to see the good in people… Especially since she knew when she got out of the shower, there would just be another insult, another argument.

When Hermione opened the door, she was surprised to have found Draco slumped against it. In an instant, he bolted up, staring at her with cold grey eyes. Hermione sighed, _here we go again_. She tried to sneak past him to her room across the hall, but to no avail. Draco side-stepped her and his lips opened to reveal a string of insults.

"Where the hell do you think you're going?!"

"Out! Merlin, am I even allowed to do that?!" she yelled back, throwing her hands into the air.

"I preferred you locked in the bathroom, Mudblood," he snarled. He noticed she was in a white robe, her curly brown hair was shaping her face in locks, and her face was plain. If she wasn't a Mudblood, he might've found her the slightest bit attractive. _If she wasn't a Mudblood._

"Get out of my way before I make you," she growled, intent on getting to her room.

Draco scanned her up and down. The robe didn't have pockets, which meant she hadn't thought to grab her wand from the bathroom. Using this to his advantage, he stepped out of the way. Hermione looked shocked for a moment, but sighed and brushed past him, thanking him softly. Draco made his way to the bathroom, keeping a look over his shoulder to make sure she wasn't watching him. But, she had already disappeared into her room.

When he entered the bathroom, he was overcome with the smell of coconuts and orchids. It was almost intoxicating, but it had been the same smell he had smelled when he walked into the house the night before. The smell of the Mudblood. He looked at himself in the slightly steamy mirror: it had been a long time since he had had a nice shower. His blonde hair was only slightly tussled, but his face bore signs that he had aged much older than a year in the past year he was gone. The warmth seemed so inviting, too… As he looked around the bathroom, his eyes landed on the wand, laying delicately on the countertop. Just as he reached out to grab it, a hand seized his wrist.

He looked to his right to see Hermione holding onto him. Her eyes were filled with fire. It should have scared him, but it didn't. In fact, it intrigued him more than anything.

"Get away from my wand," she hissed, each word coming out as a sentence of its own.

"How dare you touch me!" he pulled himself out of her grip. She had put on a pair of dark jeans and a sweater in the short time that it had taken him to get to the bathroom.

"I knew you were up to something," she reasoned and grabbed her wand. She put it in her back pocket. "Otherwise, you wouldn't have backed down."

"Well done, Granger, you're actually beginning to think," he snarled, clutching his wrist. She turned her back towards him and began to make her way down the stairs. "WHERE THE HELL ARE YOU GOING?"

"I told you, I'm going out," she barked angrily. What a typical man: he didn't even listen. "You need your sleep anyway."

Her last comment made his lips slack. How had she known…? Regardless of how she knew, it didn't matter. He did need his sleep, and he wasn't going to deny that. Maybe a nice hot shower was always in order… He watched as she moved down the stairs, and he even followed her to the top. When she was out of his sight, the front door opened and closed, and he knew she was gone. A breath of relief rose out of his chest. But, Draco soon realized that he was indeed, alone. _Again._ In his months spent in isolation, he didn't appreciate the feeling of having company. Now, it was just him, and the feelings of dread became evident.

Though, he could take a shower now and maybe, finally, get some sleep. With a scoff, he turned back towards the bedrooms. There were three: two of which were closed, and he presumed, locked. Locked to keep him out. With a roll of his grey eyes, he made his way towards the one whose door was open. It was a lightly colored room with a queen sized bed, a closet, and dresser. There were a few decorations, pictures of places he'd never gone, but all the less, it comforted him in a strange way. Draco made his way back to the bathroom, still warm, and reeking of coconut and orchids. He turned on the water to the shower, and stripped himself of his black clothing. Even taking them off felt like a release. He sighed, and stepped into the shower, and at that moment, everything melted away. He allowed the water to wash away his pain, his dread, and his imminent loneliness. He couldn't tell you how long he stood there, letting the water run over him, feeling more or less free, and at some point, he dropped down to the bottom of the tub, and sat. Finally, relaxation came to him, and he wanted to enjoy every moment of it.

* * *

Hermione had taken no interest in going to the library, which was most unusual for her. Instead, she had fancied a walk to her favorite clothing shop. The morning breeze was cool and helped her clear her head. Besides, it was nice to get away from the arguing and just be… alone. Her thoughts wandered from how Harry and Ron were doing to the excitement of going back to Hogwarts. But, they all landed the same place they began: Draco fucking Malfoy. She cursed herself for agreeing to let him stay with her. But, she understood the reasoning behind it. Even then, why would she allow herself to let someone who she hated into her home? Because it was the right thing to do. _There you go again with the right thing to do_ , she scolded herself. It could have been her wit or just her kind heart, but she couldn't distinguish between the two.

When she arrived at the shop, her main goal was to look for something accommodating for Malfoy. She questioned herself entirely, but once again, it was the right thing to do. She headed over to the men's section, looking for something black, anything black. She quickly spotted a few sweaters and pants for him, and grabbed them off the rack. Next, she grabbed boxers, socks, and t-shirts. It was as if she was buying him a whole new wardrobe. A part of her found this amusing, picking out clothes for a man. It was something she never really had gotten to do before. Now that she had, it was such a unique feeling. As she went to the checkout, she spotted some cologne that was their "signature product." As she waited in line, she tested it to find that she really enjoyed it. With a shrug, she put it with her load. Why not?

* * *

Draco hadn't heard her come in. He also didn't know how long he had been sitting in the shower, alone with his thoughts. The images of Dumbledore falling, or Snape's face, or the empty promise to protect his family were always in his mind. It was something he could not shake, no matter how hard he tried. Eventually, when the water began to grow cold, he decided to get out of the shower. He grabbed a soft white plush towel from the towel rack and dried himself off, feeling refreshed. Wrapping the towel around his waist, he went out into the hallway and then into his room to find sets of clothes on the bed. Surprised, he turned on the light, and saw with delight that they were mostly all black. The Mudblood had brought him clothes… For a moment, the realization confused him. Why? But, she had and that was that. Quickly, he put on a pair of clean boxers, black pants, and a light brown shirt.

Hermione was outside in her yard, reading a fairly older book about how Horcruxes were created. She was scribbling notes in the margins as she heard the sliding glass door open. As she looked up, she realized it was Malfoy, in the clothes she had bought it. He also looked like he took a shower. With a smirk hidden by the book, she went back to reading, and prayed he wouldn't start an argument out in the open where her neighbors could hear them. Instead, he walked over to the edge of the fence and leaned on it, looking out into the sky. She lowered her book to watch him curiously. It was almost evening, and the sun was setting where he was standing. A part of her wanted to be just a bit closer to him, as she was sure this was as vulnerable as she was ever going to see him. So, she put her book on the table, saving her place, and then took a few cautious steps in his direction.

He knew she was behind him, and he didn't care. She was probably wondering what the hell he was doing, and Merlin only knew… He was trying to distract himself. She had taken his wand, and besides showering and sleeping, there was nothing to do in this God-forsaken place. Merlin, he wished things were different. On any other occasion, he would have been back home with his parents to keep him company. But, here, there was only this stupid Mudblood. He turned back to face her, and she slightly jumped. His blonde eyebrows raised: this could be an opportunity.

"Did I scare you, Granger?" he asked. His grey eyes were cool, almost as if he was waiting for her to return, in an almost possessive manner. And that's what made her angry.

"No, you disgust me," she hissed back and turned away. Obviously, her gentleness went unnoticed, but at this point, she didn't care.

"Glad we're on the same page," Draco sneered. His eyes narrowed, watching her. She had retreated into the kitchen again, and he had picked up the pace to follow her. Why was _he_ always following _her?_

It wasn't until he got into the kitchen that he realized he was hungry. It had been awhile since he had eaten. The Mudblood had begun rooting through the cupboards, but he wouldn't lower himself to asking her to make him something to eat. On the other hand, he hadn't any clue how to prepare a meal without using magic, so he was at her mercy.

"I can't believe you," Hermione said hastily, grabbing a few simple items and setting them on the counter. "We've done nothing but try to help you and you continue being a prick!"

"Tough shit," he replied. "At least I don't spend every waking minute with my nose in a fucking book or racking my brain for ways to help your two pathetic piece of shit friends!"

Hermione's eyes narrowed. Good, he had finally got what he wanted: a reaction out of her. Draco tried his best to hide his smile, but he could feel the edges of his lips turning up at the corners.

"I am done with this," she said and began to back away from him. "I am done listening to this repetitive nonsense."

"Repetitive nonsense? You mean the truth?" he replied, his eyebrows raising. "No, you aren't done listening because I'm not done talking." Hermione's lips clasped shut and she closed her eyes, preparing for his next insult. "You don't deserve your magic, Mudblood, and you know it. That's why you try to find the good in everyone, your courage, all of the stupid heroic shit you've done with Potter and Weasley – that all was just to prove yourself." Draco knew that he was getting to her, and it was bloody amazing, to have this feeling of power again. He continued, his tone smooth and collected now. "You know that people like you don't belong in _my_ world. That's why your nose is continuously in a book, that's why for six fucking years I've had to hear you blurt out answers in class, embarrassing yourself in front of everyone, because you always _know it all._ Too fucking bad you don't."

"I enjoy reading and learning -" her pathetic comeback came.

"Because you feel the need to prove yourself. And you know you never will," he said, almost gleefully. He was undoubtedly certain that he had won this argument and the feeling was almost as delicious as food. "You know you'll never belong. It's time to realize that you, and everyone like you, truly are inferior to the wizarding world."

Smirking, he was glad that she provided him with something to do. At least there was always arguing to resort too, but there was nothing as delightful as winning. Still basking in his triumph, Draco didn't notice until the last second that Hermione had turned around and her fist was halfway to his face. He caught it in his hand just in the nick of time, his eyes wide and then narrow.

"No, I think you're done punching me," he said, almost too calmly.

But, there was a look of fire in her eyes, a look that made his insides grow hot. He didn't know it was coming until it happened: she had pulled out her wand and cast a silent jinx on him. Draco went flying back into the glass of the sliding doors behind him, crumpling with a groan. That was the second time in the past twenty four hours that she had done that to him. He looked up just enough to see her walking around the corner, and presumably up the stairs and to her room. It was the same thing he would have done.

As gleeful as winning arguments with her was, he would have to find something else to entertain himself. As he gathered himself up, he saw the boxes of food sitting on the counter and his stomach rumbled slightly. He'd never made Muggle food before, but as it seemed like his only option, he decided to give it a go. Merlin, she was infuriating, but so fun to argue with. He had never met someone who made his anger soar. It was aggravating, yet slightly intriguing.


	3. Chapter 3

_Hey guys! My plan is to update as soon as I possibly can & to keep it going! I had a few people message me and ask if I was going to finish "Forbidden", my LoL Fanfic. To answer that, yes, eventually. But, this has intrigued me even more and right now. Like I said before, this will go all the way through to the end of 7_ _th_ _year and the end of the battle of Hogwarts. I'm also going to skip over the month at Hermione's because it's repetitive and I really want them to start back at Hogwarts!_ _And please please please review!_

Chapter 3: Back to Hogwarts

Hermione was always an early riser, even when she was up late studying for school, she was never asleep past eight. She stretched and yawned; Crookshanks mewed softly when she scooted him to the foot of her bed so she could get up. She peeked out the window: it was a beautiful autumn day, yet she could tell it was chilly because of the wind blowing through the trees. Still, beautiful, none the less. With a sigh, she turned to her dresser and pulled a pair of leggings and a blouse from the drawers. With ease, she slipped off her night clothes and put her day clothes on. Hermione chanced a look in the mirror and decided to put her hair halfway up, then opened the door to her room. Draco's door was closed, which meant he had actually moved there for the night. She wondered how he slept…

When she went downstairs and into the kitchen to make her morning brew, she saw that he had attempted to make food. Muggle food. She had to stiffen a giggle, as he really had not a clue what he was doing. But, she couldn't let him starve, even after last night's incident. After all, he was under her watch for the next month. So, she decided to whip him up some breakfast.

Draco's nose twitched as he woke up from his slumber. It hadn't been a good one, then again, it never was anymore. But, what in Merlin's beard had awoken him? Food. He bolted in bed, his stomach rumbling. Without a second thought, he opened the door to his room and raced downstairs as fast as his feet would carry him. When he saw Hermione cooking breakfast, his hopes vanished. But, then he saw that she had set two plates. Interested, he walked over to the kitchen, leaning in the doorway. She looked up at him, offered nothing, and then went back to cooking. He placed his hands in his pockets, patiently waiting for her to say something. When he realized that she wasn't going too, he took the approach.

"You woke me up, Granger," he said with a forced scowl.

"Yeah?" she replied, her eyes on the scrambled eggs in the pan she was holding.

"You know, I would sleep better if there wasn't so much racket down here –"

"Do you want food?" she asked. He was immediately startled by her question and lowered his eyebrows. He didn't respond. "Well, I made some for you. Even though we fight, you still deserve to have a full stomach."

No matter how hard Draco tried to come up with an argument back, he didn't have one. So, he proceeded to grab the plate of scrambled eggs with toast and sit at the table in which she had all of her plans scrawled out. Taking a moment, he looked at all of them, taking everything in. He could already feel himself starting to go insane in this place… It had too much… white.

Hermione sat down beside him, her plate on the table in front of her. "So I was thinking…"

"Shocking," Draco said and took a bite of scrambled eggs. Oh, they were heavenly. The Mudblood could cook, actually cook, without magic. He shouldn't have been surprised, but he was.

"I was thinking that so long as you are here, we should keep out of one another's way," Hermione proposed. She crossed her arms and stared at him, waiting for a response. Draco didn't like the idea, he liked arguing. She wasn't like the other girls he'd argued with; as much as he didn't want to admit it, she did have a brain and she knew how to use it. "I'm going to keep out of your way and you're going to keep out of mine."

Draco rolled his grey eyes. "What floats your boat."

Hermione was impressed that he didn't respond by arguing, but it was probably because he was grateful for the food. She wasn't going to get her hopes up, and it was a good thing she hadn't. The next few weeks with him were incredibly painful. He didn't stop arguing, didn't stop fighting, only when he was stuffing his face with food was he ever quiet. Every time she left, she was met with insults, name-calling, and yelling. She had jinxed him multiple times, but had never given in. However, she still cooked for him, leaving him two meals a day and snacks when they weren't fighting. In a way, she hoped it would be a gesture of kindness towards him, but even if he knew and understood it was, he didn't show it.

* * *

Hermione kept a calender in the kitchen of how many days until their return to Hogwarts. On August 31st, she had counted she had been with Draco Malfoy for exactly twenty-seven days. Twenty-seven days of insults, of arguments, and despair. So, when she was finally packing to go to Hogwarts, she felt a wave of relief rush over her. She packed her robes, her clothing, and a few of her material possessions. When it came to go through her dresser, she noticed Draco's wand, still setting against the front of the drawer. With a sigh, she picked it up. She felt her fingertips warm, as though they were accommodating the wand. Never had a wand wrapped its way around her before… Curious, she stared at it, wondering what it was made of… Did it have a twin core to her own?

"I see you've found my wand, Mudblood," Malfoy sneered from her doorframe.

Hermione spun around, noticing she made the mistake of leaving her door unlocked. "I've always known where it was. I just didn't give it to you."

"Give it to me now, I think I've suffered enough," he said roughly. He eyed her packing. Hermione noticed the hurt in his eyes.

"You don't want to go back, do you?" she asked, toying the wand with her fingertips.

"Why do you care?" he barked back.

"Just a question," she shrugged.

"Would you want to go back?" he almost yelled. "After everything that's happened to me there, do you think I'll be accepted back?"

Hermione sat on her bed, beside her luggage, still staring into his grey eyes. "McGonagall has made arrangements for us, Malfoy. What is the core of your wand?"

Draco looked slightly taken aback. "Hawthorne and unicorn hair. Why the bloody hell would you want to know?"

"Just a question," she shrugged. "Since we're going back tonight, and I know you'll do me no harm, I see no harm in letting you have this back."

Hermione knew McGonagall's plan for when they got back to Hogwarts, and she knew the Professor was going to confiscate Draco's wand. In an act of pure insanity, she handed Draco his wand. His mouth slacked slightly, but he snatched it out of her hand and looked at it longingly. With a sigh, Hermione stood again and resumed her packing.

"We leave this evening."

* * *

Draco's last few hours in Hermione's house felt like insanity. For the past month, he had become accustomed to the little cottage, but the white still drove him insane. He knew McGonagall was checking up on him and her, and Hermione was giving her the full story: about his arguments, his horrible personality, everything he did to annoy her. But, he had slowly began to enjoy arguing with her, enjoy her leaving and then yelling at her when she came back. It made him feel in control, and now that he had his wand back… No, he wasn't going to try to escape. But, he felt tremendous pressure to do so. To return to his mum and dad. If he did, Voldemort would kill him and them. He felt trapped, more trapped then ever. And going back to that bloody school wasn't going to help matters.

Evening fell quickly. Hermione was dressed in jeans and a sweater, waiting for Draco to come downstairs. She was half tempted to call up for him, but just when she was about too, she saw him coming down. He was wearing all black, not surprising. With sneer, he stood next to her. No words had to be exchanged. They needed to Apparate into the castle, directly into McGonagall's office. With great distaste, Hermione held out her hand to Malfoy. Visibly repulsed, he put his hand into hers. To his surprise, it was warm, soft, and smelled only slightly of orchids and coconuts. They locked eyes, this time not to fight, but to make sure they got into the school safely.

"Ready?" Hermione asked.

"Just do it already."

Draco would never get used to that feeling of squeezing through a tight tube with his lungs about to burst. Right when he thought he was going to suffocate, he landed in front of McGonagall's desk. She looked up at the two students, her glasses halfway down her nose. Draco pulled his hand out of Hermione's roughly, and eyed the Professor with great distaste. She stood to her full height, looking from Malfoy to Hermione and back again.

"Miss Granger, it is wonderful to see you again. I trust you have been getting my owls?" she asked.

He knew it: they had been communicating under his nose.

"Yes," Hermione said with a nod. "What is the plan, Professor?"

McGonagall came from behind her desk, and looked to Draco. It was the same look she had given him in the yard of Snape's cottage a month ago. It was the look of asking him to do something she knew he wasn't going to want to do. His breath caught in his chest and he tried hard not to bark at her, demand to know what she was going to say. What was she going to do with him?

"Miss Granger, you are obviously Head Girl, for reasons other than that you are in the Order. You must keep Hogwarts a save house, am I clear? Zacharias Smith is Head Boy." Draco snorted and McGonagall gave him a cold stare. "As for Mr. Malfoy, he will be accompanying you to your quarters until further notice. He is not to leave them, for any reason. Nor is anyone allowed to know that he is here."

"You have got to be joking!" Draco groaned. "I just spent a month with this brat –"

"Mr. Malfoy!" McGonagall barked. "That is enough. You will do as you are told or I will not help you. Now give me your wand."

"Excuse me?"

"Your wand, Mr. Malfoy," McGonagall commanded clearly. "Or did I not make myself clear?"

Draco sneered, pulling his wand out of his pocket and handing it to the Headmistress. That was the second time he had been robbed of his wand in the past month, and he had nothing to show for it. McGonagall pocketed it and turned her attention back to Hermione.

"Let's go now, before the other students arrive," McGonagall commanded.

Hermione uttered a small sigh before turning and walking out of the office. Draco followed her slowly, knowing that the Professor was bringing up the rear. On the way to the dorm, Draco couldn't help but keep his eyes off of Hermione's shoulders. Her curls were almost dancing. He'd never noticed it before until now. Being back in Hogwarts had a rather nostalgic feeling on him. Hermione, however, was happy as ever to be back, although she would've still been alongside Harry and Ron. Harry and Ron… Oh, she hoped they were alright.

None of the three spoke on the way to Hermione's new dorm. There was already enough to think about, enough tension in the air to feel three of Hogwarts. It didn't seem very long before they reached a painting with a black panther on it, roaring into the night behind him. Hermione whispered a password that neither Draco nor McGonagall could interpret. Then, she walked into the dorm. Of course, Draco followed her quickly. Merlin Forbid she be the first one to do anything.

The dorm was smaller than the house. Draco groaned inwardly… Truly, he hated small spaces, he was borderline claustrophobic, and they continually put him into smaller and smaller places. As he looked around in distaste, he realized that he seriously needed sleep, and maybe now that he was back at Hogwarts, his nightmares would ease. Without a look to Hermione or McGonagall, he spun on his heel and retreated into his room, slamming his door behind him. Hermione shuddered softly.

"I want to thank you for putting up with him for the past month," McGonagall thanked her quietly. "I hoped he would have treated you better."

"It's fine, Professor, I can hold my own," Hermione reassured her. "How long will he be here? With me?"

"Until it is safe again," McGonagall replied softly, almost whispering. "It won't be as difficult here, Hermione. You have me and the Order if you need us. If Mr. Malfoy is any trouble, you let us immediately, and we will try to arrange other accommodations for him."

"Thank you, Professor," she nodded. A part of Hermione wished McGonagall hadn't told her that statement. Inside her, something now wanted to fix him, not keep him away from her. She couldn't explain it… Womanly instinct? Her past month with him? Whatever it was, it was making her head and her heart incredibly confused.

* * *

"It's very dangerous putting them together," Snape said softly as he and the Headmistress walked together down the dark corridor. Their torches on the wall were the only illumination in the hallway, although they didn't need to make eye contact for them to communicate. "I don't know if she can handle it."

"And why do you suppose that, Severus?" McGonagall asked, her hands in the pockets of her robe that lay over her nightdress. "She handled it for the past month. Why should we begin to worry now?"

"Things can change rapidly, Minerva," Snape replied dangerously. "I truly don't believe that Draco is as far gone as Lucius, but if he is, he may attempt harm on Granger in ways that are not magical."

"If you mean his insults, Severus, I'm sure that Miss Granger is almost immune by now," she chuckled to her companion.

"Alas, there is a much more important matter at hand. The Dark Lord is preparing, Minerva," Snape whispered. "He knows that the boy is hunting for Horcruxes, which means he is on guard to the maximum. He will make his move soon, before Potter finds them all."

"Which doesn't give us much time," sighed the Headmistress. "How much time do we have?"

"I would give it until after Christmas, but our previous assumptions about him may be wrong. The Dark Lord moves quickly, Minerva, he may not wait that long."

"When that time comes, we need to be ready," McGonagall said firmly. "Everyone needs to be ready."

"I've already informed Shacklebolt, but Thickneese is making things very difficult in the Ministry," Snape informed her. "I don't know how long until it falls. For that, I would give it a few months, at the most, Minerva. As soon as the Ministry falls, he will come to Hogwarts."

McGonagall stopped walking and sighed to herself. "We will have to move the boy again."

"When the time is right, Minerva, we won't have to keep him in hiding anymore," Snape reminded her. "Remember what the goal of this was."

"I wish we didn't have to keep Miss Granger in the dark. I had her thinking this was all for the greater good," McGonagall murmured to herself.

"It was the only way," Snape replied softly. "He is a very valuable asset, if he was fully turned to our side. Then, there will be hope of saving Narcissa and Lucius."

* * *

Their first night together in their dorm was quiet, almost too quiet. Hermione had laid awake in her bed, becoming aware that Draco had not left his room since they came into the dorm. Mildly worried about him, she pushed herself up off the bed and shuffled out of her room to the large common room between both of their rooms. His room was quite a trek across the kitchenette and passed the bathroom. Her body passed in and out of the moonlight streams as she made her way across the carpet. When she came within a few inches of his door, she stopped. Whimpers. With her eyes narrowed, she quietly turned the knob on his door and peeked inside.

He was thrashing, quite violently. The moonlight coming in through his window shown the beads of sweat trickling down his forehead and the sides of his cheeks. His white-blonde hair was unkempt, his eyes closed tightly. Hermione couldn't make out the words of his whimpers, but she knew she wanted to help none the less. Maybe if she knew what was causing them… She had made a vow to herself never to invade another person's privacy, but in her mind, this was different. For the past month, she had listened to him toss and turn, whimper and whine, without so much as asking why. Deeming herself heartless for not caring, even about Malfoy, she raised her wand and whispered, " _Legilimens_ "

Draco knew immediately when Hermione had dove into his head. Not only was he familiar with how to do Legilimency, he had his head poked into one too many times before. An eerie feeling washed over him, and he knew she was searching for what happened to him. She saw the hundreds of goblins slain in Malfoy Manor last year, all the blood… She saw when he was attempting to repair the Vanishing Cabinets and when Voldemort had threatened his mother with the Cruciatus Curse if he wasn't able to do it. She saw when he was branded with the Dark Mark on his arm, something he had never allowed her to see. She saw when he was overwhelmed, rushing into the bathroom, Potter close behind. She saw their duel, and then his pain when he laid on the floor, covered in blood, dying. How scared he was. She saw when he was on top of the Astronomy Tower, wand held to Dumbledore, threatening him. And then his empty promise: that Dumbledore would protect his family.

That was it. She had seen too much.

His grey eyes snapped open and he threw himself up in bed, pushing the covers away, taking long strides to the witch, who had lowered her wand, a look of pure anguish on her petite face.

"HOW DARE YOU!" he roared. "To think you can just dive into my head like I'm so pathetic little wanker –"

"You were having a nightmare again! I wanted to know why!" Hermione retorted sharply. "I've only had to listen to you have them for the past month!"

"What business is it of yours, Mudblood?" he spat. "I don't interfere in your personal business!"

"Actually, you do! All the time!" Hermione said. Their eyes were locked on one another's now, staring into their souls. Both were incredibly livid.

"Get out of my room! Now!" he yelled. His eyes narrowed, his lips pursed, and he looked like if he had a wand, Hermione would be flying across the room by now.

With a huff, Hermione turned on her heel and walked through their shared common room and back to her room. She didn't hear footfalls behind her, but she could feel his eyes burning into her back. Perhaps she did go too far tonight. Regardless, she knew now why he was the way he was. She whispered the password to her door, and locked it behind her, just in case. Dropping to her bed, she replayed the memories she had just seen. Maybe she had misjudged him, maybe he was just mislead after all.


	4. Chapter 4

_Good afternoon, all!_ _Happy almost summer, it's officially reached 63 degrees here after a cool week last week. I am beyond pleased! So, instead of going outside, here I am, enjoying a glass of Moscato, and writing for you. I wouldn't have it any other way! This story has been added to a few communities out there, and I would like it to be added to more. If you see one that you think may fit well, feel free to add it. And as always, review. Love you guys! :D :D And thank you Megami for pointing out my "don't/done" in Chapter 2. Oh how embarrassing. :P_

Chapter 4: The Inevitable

Hermione awoke with a start to her sleeping charm, with the sounds of birds chirping in her ears. A small smile crept over her face when she looked out her window; the sun was shining, welcoming her back to the place she held most dear. She tilted her head from side to side, and slowly clambered out of her comfortable bed. Crookshanks moved himself up to where her body was, turned a few times, and fell back asleep. Hermione grabbed her robes, and proceeded to the bathroom. It was there that she remembered the argument last night. What she had seen definitely affected her in a negative way. Did the Order know about what had happened to him? Too many questions, too little time.

After her quick shower, Hermione went on to make breakfast. It was only eight, and her first class of the day wasn't until eight thirty. With ease, she began to make herself pancakes with bacon, and poured herself a cup of orange juice. Not realizing it, she began to sing to herself, pointless lyrics, but somehow they soothed her.

Draco's eyes opened for the second time since he had pushed the Mudblood out of his room the following night. Last time it was because her stupid pet wanted to be let into her room, and this time it was because of singing. Curiously, Draco pulled himself up and listened to the soft sounds. At first he was angry, but then his heart began to calm down, and he felt a lump in his throat.

Mum. It reminded him of the way his mother used to sing when she prepared a meal, did the laundry, anything for that matter. Whatever she did, Narcissa Malfoy was singing. Not a lot of people knew she was that gentle. But, these sounds were coming from the Mudblood. And there was no way she was as gentle as his Mum.

Hermione heard Draco's shuffling in his room, realizing now that she had woken him. She heard a refrain of colorful swear words before the door to his room swung open to reveal the Slytherin. She sighed and turned back to putting the pancakes on a plate.

"Granger, do you have to be so bloody loud?" he barked, standing in the doorway of his room.

Hermione turned to him, spatula in her hand. "I wasn't being loud, Malfoy, go back to bed!"

"How can I do that when you're walloping around her like a herd of centaurs?" he demanded.

"I most certainly am not –"

"Yes, you are! Merlin, your ignorance is ridiculous, Granger!"

"You think I'm being loud, huh?" she said softly, and with a flick of her wand, there came a screeching sound, like nails on a chalkboard. Draco scowled.

"Wow, that's so mature of you! Do you ever stop to think about what you're doing?!"

"As a matter of fact, yes I do," Hermione snapped back. She threw a plate of breakfast on the table in the kitchen, along with a fork. She had made him breakfast. Draco narrowed his eyes. She had done this for the past month; why was she using it against him now?

"Just stop moving around," he growled. "Seriously, Granger, it's infuriating –"

"Don't tell me what to do, Malfoy. You're here because the Order feels sorry for your situation, that's it," she replied, her hazel eyes like fire. Draco found that he actually quite liked it when he saw the fire begin to burn in her eyes. "Just take your food and go back to sleep."

"Don't try to boss me around, Granger," he warned.

Hermione looked at her watch: it was almost nine. She needed to get to class. Without another word, she grabbed her books off the table and proceeded to the door. Nothing followed after her, not an insult nor argument, and for that, she was thankful. All she heard was heavy footfalls to the kitchen and back to the room, and the shrill clash of the door slamming. Whatever, he could act like he was a child when she wasn't in the dorm.

Halfway down the hall, still engulfed in her thoughts about her furious Slytherin roommate, she saw Ginny talking to Seamus and Neville by the Great Hall. Without another thought about him, she sprinted to them, happier than she had been in her life.

"Hermione!" Ginny squealed with delight, her red hair bouncing around her as met her halfway and gave her the biggest hug she could muster. "Oh, it's so good to see you!"

"You, too, Ginny! How are you? How is your family?" Hermione asked quickly.

"Coping, I suppose," Ginny replied with a shrug. "We all worry now, with what's been going on. Mum didn't want me to come back, but when I told her you were, she was fine. Are you okay, Hermione? You look pale."

"Oh, dear," Hermione said, more to herself than to Ginny. "No, I just haven't gotten the chance to eat yet. What class do you have now?

Ginny checked her schedule. "Advanced Transfiguration with McGonagall."

"I'm headed to Slughorn's for Alchemy," Hermione said, sighing. They were on completely different ends of the castle.

"Oh, Neville's going there! Neville!" Ginny called. Neville bid a farewell to Seamus, and approached the two girls, a smile on his face.

"Hermione, boy, am I glad to see you! Are you alright? You look ill," Neville exclaimed, looking the witch up and down. Hermione noticed how much he had thinned out over the past summer; he even had a bit of black stubble on his chin.

"Oh yes, I was just telling Ginny that I hadn't eaten yet. You're heading to Alchemy?" she gave him a fake smile, and it apparently did the trick.

"Indeed," Neville nodded. "We better get going if we're gonna make class on time. Ginny, I'll see you for lunch?" Ginny nodded and disappeared into the crowd. "What have you been up too, Hermione? We haven't seen you all summer. Some of us were beginning to think you went out searching for Harry and Ron."

Their names brought a pang to the witch's heart.

"I've been doing all I can to help them from home," she explained.

"It looks like it's been taking a toll," Neville remarked as they descended down the stairs to the dungeons. "Maybe you should take a quick break. I fancy a bite to eat after the class, what do you say?"

Hermione couldn't help but smile. Neville always had a way of making her feel better. "Of course. How about you? What did you do all summer?"

"Mostly trained the D.A. We have a few new people now, so we're growing. It's good to see that the interest is getting around. The more people we have on our side, the better," Neville explained, using his hands to extenuate.

"Good!" Hermione exclaimed. It truly was good news, and it gave her hope. "We all need to get together with some of the Professors. That will truly prepare us."

"Absolutely. Let's talk to McGonagall about it after this class," Neville held open the door to the potions classroom for her. They went inside and sat at their usual table in the back of the classroom.

Hermione couldn't help but feel the comfort of being back at school. Something about it just made her feel tingly and happy. Seeing her friends again helped as well. As Neville pulled up his chair, Hermione noticed he drooped an arm casually across the back of her chair. Slightly confused, but not going to question it, she ignored it and brought her books out.

"How's Luna?" Hermione asked as they waited for Slughorn.

"Typical Luna," Neville chuckled. "If it wasn't for her optimism, I don't think the D.A. would've worked out. She's special, that Luna."

"Oh yes," Hermione chuckled. "She is very special, indeed."

* * *

The first day of Alchemy was a breeze, and she thrived herself on answering every question. It was just a repeat of last year, but she enjoyed it none-the-less. Slughorn had given them an essay due by Thursday on Panacea, and Hermione was quite grateful to have an assignment to work on already. Neville walked her to the Great Hall, they grabbed an apple, chatted a bit more about the D.A. and Harry and Ron, then went to McGonagall's classroom to find that she was absent. Hermione assured Neville they would speak with her soon, and proceeded to go to the library.

The library was her refuge away from all the noises and drama that came with going to school. Normally, the library was quite quiet, as it was today. Not spotting another soul in sight, including Madam Pince, Hermione allowed herself back to the restricted section to her usual spot, hidden out of view from everyone.

With a contented sigh, she gazed around the library, taking in the scent of the old books, and feeling truly at home.

For a few hours, she could loose herself in this sanctuary. That's all that mattered.

Neville came and retrieved her from the library a few hours later, when it was time for their afternoon lunch. He found her sleeping on a book about Horcruxes, and then a parchment titled: "The Effects of Panacea" beside her, with the quill still on it, leaving a disastrously huge drop of ink. With a smile, he leaned down and gently awoke Hermione. Her hazel eyes blinked open to see his face, and a small smile crept along hers too.

"How long was I out?" she asked, straightening herself.

"A few hours, I'd reckon," Neville replied and began to help her gather her things. "We're all headed to lunch, would you like to join us?"

"Of course," Hermione said, swinging her back with her books over her shoulder. She eyed the parchment with the ink stain, noting she didn't get any further than the title, and decided she would start over later. "What are we having?"

"Sandwiches, I think," chuckled Neville.

The two made their way through the empty library to the Great Hall, where Seamus was waiting for them with Dean Thomas. Hermione approached her friends happily, but still rubbing sleep from her eyes.

"Hermione, have a good Holiday?" Seamus asked, giving her a clap on the back.

"Oh yes," she nodded, despite the fact that everything that could've possibly gone wrong went wrong.

"It's good to see you," Dean said and gave her a hug. The four companions went into the Great Hall to the Gryffindor table, chatting once again about the D.A.

Hermione glanced around the Hall, looking for any faces she'd recognize. Michael Corner, Colin Creevy, Ernie McMillian (he had grown out his curls so they were framing his face and she couldn't help but think he was the least bit attractive now), Terry Boot, Pansy Parkinson (the disgust that filled Hermione almost made her sick), and Tracey Davis. A lot of others she saw weren't in her year and she didn't know well, but at least Hogwarts was full.

The rest of the day went by fairly quickly. Hermione had two out of her four classes give her homework, but she was wishing that all of them had. By the time evening set in, and she had eaten dinner with her friends, she was headed back to her dorm with an extra plate for Malfoy. Just when she was about to enter, Zacharias Smith turned the corner, obviously looking for her. _Shit_ , she thought, repulsed by her own swearing.

"Hermione, hey, I'm glad I caught you in time!" he exclaimed, and swept his long dirty-blonde bangs to the side.

"Hello, Zac, what is it?" she asked, wishing to Merlin that he would just go away.

"McGonagall wants us to go out tomorrow together for the first Quidditch match of the season," he said. She noted the smile turning up on the sides of his lips, but looked down to the floor to avoid making eye-contact with him.

"Sounds good, I'll meet you there –"

"Are you okay, Hermione? You seem… off," he said with a raised eyebrow.

If one more person asked her if she was okay today, she swore…

"Oh yes, I'm fine. Just a little wore out is all," she said and slinked back to the picture of the panther that led to her dorm. "I'll see you tomorrow, Zac."

With a quick mutter of the password, she disappeared inside her dorm. She was surprised to find Malfoy on the couch, a book in his lap. He looked up when she entered the room, noting that she had chosen to wear black slacks, with a sweater overtop of her white shirt and tie. Her normally messy hair was up in a bun, with only stands hanging down. She looked… feminine.

Hermione didn't say a word to him, just swung her sack of books on the table and pulled out a piece of parchment so she could work on her essay. Inside, she was hoping he didn't get up. The last thing she wanted to do was to deal with that Slytherin scum. Draco got up, tossed the book to the couch, and eyed the plate of food at she had brought.

"First day satisfactory, Granger?" he asked with a scowl.

"Piss off," she replied and began writing the title to Slughorn's paper ever so carefully.

"Make me," he dared her. Her hazel eyes looked up from the parchment, and her fingers dropped the quill. He did it: he didn't even have to rowel her up this time.

"I shouldn't have too!" there came the screaming. He loved it. "This is my dorm, and I've told you repeatedly the only reason why you're here is –"

"Because the bloody Order feels sorry for me, blah blah blah," Draco mocked her, even inching his tone up an octave to mimic her affectively. Hermione's ears grew hot with rage.

"You are seriously the most selfish person I know, Malfoy! You're entire life has been handed to you, so all you've done is bully people and make them feel sorry that they aren't you! When you were brought to me, I actually thought maybe your predicament had changed you, but NO! You remind me of your father –"

"Do not bring my father into this," Draco warned her quietly. She had crossed a line, and she knew it.

"No, I'm not finished," she continued, now pointing at him. If he had a wand, he would've hexed her finger. "You have become just like your father! You are evil, conniving, and manipulative! You're even a _Death Eater!_ Who would've guessed? I thought maybe, just maybe, you had one shred of common sense left not to follow Voldemort –"

"SHUT UP!" he bellowed. But, Hermione had no intention of shutting up.

"No, I will not shut up. You're a pitiful excuse for a Death Eater, Malfoy. That's why you're here, because you couldn't even get that right in your pathetic life," she hissed.

On any other occasion, he would've been thrilled to get her temper this high, this flaring. But, not this time. She had touched a nerve, and she knew it. She was basking in it.

"Are you done, Granger?" he growled. No matter what he did, he couldn't escape his wrongdoing. Not in his dreams, and apparently not in reality either. He shouldn't have let her read his mind…

Hermione just huffed, holding her ground, her arms now crossed in front of her chest. "I thought that maybe, just maybe, you would change –"

"You fucking Gryffindor's are all the same. Always trying to see the good in everything and everyone, it's repulsive –"

"No, Draco, what you did is repulsive," Hermione said, her voice harsh with honesty. With that, she stormed into her room, leaving no time for his reply.

When she was in her room, Draco picked up the plate of food and hurled it against the opposite wall, resulting in food and glass everywhere. He hoped she had heard it, that it had made her cringe. How dare she bring up his father like it was okay to talk about! Draco paced back and forth until his anger subsided, and finally fell back to the couch where he opened up the book he was reading again. It was about Magical Creatures, and dare he admit it – he was finding some of the things he was reading fascinating. But, he couldn't keep his concentration. So, he began to pace again. He spied the parchment the Mudblood had been working on and sat down at the table. Having taken Advanced Alchemy last year, he was familiar with the topic, and was itching for something to do. He picked the quill up, noticing it had left a disastrously huge drop of ink. He absentmindedly blotted it away and began to write.

When Hermione awoke the next morning, she wasn't in a better mood. The events of the evening prior hadn't blown over on her end quite yet. She looked outside and saw that it was getting cooler, the leaves were even beginning to change. So, she grabbed a pair of black trousers, another white shirt, a red and golden tie, and a grey cardigan with the Gryffindor crest woven into the fabric. As she walked into the kitchen, she noticed the shattered glass and last night's food. She murmured a spell to clean it up, and then directed her eyes to the kitchen table. Where to her surprise, a completed essay sat on the finish, looking up at her with the ink similar to calligraphy. Her breath caught in her throat, and she thought to herself that maybe, just maybe, there was still hope left for Draco Malfoy.

* * *

The rest of the day went by quickly, and Hermione had a feeling that the days were going to begin to run together. Between her and her friends, there were many estranged silences when they weren't going on about Voldemort, the war, the D.A., or Harry and Ron. Hermione never began conversation, but then again, she rarely did anyway. Her friends still commented on her looking ill. She managed to brush it off as worry about Harry and Ron, and her friends believed her because over the past year, she had become a very convincing liar.

McGonagall had begun training with the members of the D.A. that wanted to expand their skills. That alone made Hermione wonder what McGonagall knew that they didn't. Over the next few weeks, she noticed that many of the Seventh Year Slytherins were disappearing. They were going to Voldemort's side, to become Death Eaters. Hermione didn't even pretend that she didn't know. When Dean mentioned that there weren't any Seventh Years left, Hermione didn't even hide her surprise. It made her resent Malfoy a little more, knowing that if circumstances were different, he would be with them.

They didn't argue as much anymore, despite a few outbursts here and there. McGonagall had asked Hermione multiple times how Draco was accommodating, and every time, she told the Headmistress he was becoming less and less volatile. It had seemed that the Slytherin and Gryffindor had come to at least a slight understanding. And Hermione noticed that when Draco was busy, he was less proactive. She always made sure to keep books in their Common Room, and more often than not, when she returned from classes, he was in his room and a few of her books were missing. It made her feel a little warm inside, knowing that he was becoming just as much of a bookworm as she was.

October came, bringing harsh winds and cool rain with it. On the morning of the seventh, a Saturday, Hermione looked out her window and sighed at the raindrops coming down onto her window. She always hated the rain. It brought dread, cold, and just all around, unhappiness. She didn't even bother to cover herself from her nightclothes, a loose pair of lilac boxer shorts, and a white tank top, as she went out into the kitchen. To her surprise, Draco was balancing himself on the island in the kitchen, a bowl of cereal at one side of him, and two books on the other. There was another book in his hands, and he was intently reading. Hermione noted she could hear the rain much clearer out here.

"What the hell are you doing?" he barked. Hermione jumped, and instinctively reached for her wand, but realized it wasn't in her back pocket. "Why are you here?"

"I live here?" she raised an eyebrow and began to slowly move back to her room. After so long without arguing, his bark had caught her off guard. She almost had thought she didn't have to carry a wand around him. "I have some homework, so can you just please go somewhere else?"

"Good for you, Granger. Some of us don't have homework. Some of us are locked in a stupid dorm," he snarled.

"That's not my problem," she said calmly, and went to the couch where her bags were dropped. She retrieved her book and parchment, then curled herself in the red armchair near Draco's room.

"It is! You could've told the Order to send me somewhere else, not be locked up in this bloody room with _you_!" he growled.

"No matter where you go, you'll be locked up, Malfoy," she sneered in his direction, opening her book and grabbing a quill. "Now, please, go into your room –"

"Piss off, Granger."

"I'm waiting for you to piss off, Malfoy," she barked, her voice carrying over the heavy sounds of rain.

"Why can't you go back to your room? You're the one who came out here and disturbed me!"

"Because this is my dorm, and I'm in charge –"

"Oh, you're in charge? I didn't know McGonagall handed that authority over to you!"

"Well, she did so—"

"So what? It doesn't mean shit. I'm still stuck here and you're still being bloody stupid. I never understood why you Gryffindor's have to make everything so damn complicated –"

"We don't make things complicated, Malfoy!"

"Oh yeah? Then why did Potter and Weasley go running off to Merlin Knows Where, not leaving you a single clue as to where they might be?" Malfoy demanded, his blonde eyebrow raised. "Don't deny me, Granger. You know that they left you behind because they can't stand you."

A spark ignited inside Hermione's abdomen. "Shut up, Malfoy, before I make you –"

A flick of realization passed over Draco's grey eyes. "Ah, seem to have hit a nerve there, Granger. It must be truly an inconvenience to you not to have the other two gits of your little trio here to make you feel better. It explains why you've been looking so morbid lately."

"I do not look morbid –"

"Yes, you do," he corrected her. "I just remembered that maybe it's because you don't have your pathetic ass of a boyfriend here too –"

"He's not my boyfriend!" Hermione said sharply, now to her feet. "I swear Draco Malfoy, if you say one more word…"

"What? You're gonna hex me? Throw me out of here? Please do. Seriously, it's better than listening to any of the rubbish coming out of your mouth," Draco said coolly.

Hermione had had enough of his arguments. It was too early for it. Like she always did when she had gotten tired of arguing, she locked herself in the bathroom to take a nice warm shower. She could hide out in there, without having to deal with her friends asking her if she was okay, without being around people. It was her own little sanctuary. Even though she knew when she opened that door, the foul-mouthed Slytherin would be waiting for her on the other side.


	5. Chapter 5

_For the next few days, updating is going to be really easy for me since it's the first two days off I've had in awhile. So, count on that! :D I'm super excited to see how this is going to evolve! God, I can't tell you how many things I've looked up regarding HP, and hell, I even rented DH Pt.2. I'm becoming more and more obsessed as this goes on… Oh my oh my oh my. Review Review Review! (Also, I recommend listening to Radiohead while you read this… It certainly worked for me.)_

Chapter 5:

"Keep that shield up, Neville!" called Hermione as she made her way around the Defense Against the Dark Arts Classroom. "Neville, you're losing it! Concentrate!"

McGonagall was pacing opposite Hermione, instructing the thirty-plus students in the classroom on jinxes. Hermione's lot was focusing on shielding from those jinxes. Just as she got to Luna, Neville's shield broke and the jinx sent by Michael Corner hit him in the chest, sending him flying back and toppling over a few desks. Luna merely looked at Corner, bidding him a good job. Hermione had to stiffen a laugh.

"Very good, Mr. Corner. Next time, try not to damage school property," McGonagall said as she walked behind him. "Try it again."

Neville hurried to his feet, pulling his dirty black sweater down, and aiming his wand at Corner. "Ready, Corner? Give me all you got, you git!"

McGonagall and Hermione locked eyes, almost painfully. Neville conjured his shield, and Michael squared his shoulders, looking uncertain.

"Focus, Mr. Corner," McGonagall said, now stopping to his right. "Aim for Mr. Longbottom's chest."

Neville's intense eyes bore from behind his shield. With a half-hearted glance to McGonagall, probably worried he would send Neville flying once again, Michael shouted, " _Impedimenta!_ " The green jinx hit Neville's shield, and it repelled it, sending it flying into the stone floor. Seamus clapped Neville on the back with a smile.

"Great work, Neville! Keep that going!" Hermione encouraged.

"Mr. Finnigan!" McGonagall said sternly, as she noticed Seamus egging Dean on to jinx him right in the chest. "It appears as though you've rubbed off on Mr. Longbottom."

"No, ma'am, he's rubbed off on me," laughed Seamus, practically jumping up and down in excitement from his taunts. "Let me see what you got, Dean, c'mon now!"

Dean raised his wand to his best friend, as Seamus flicked his wand. " _Protego!"_ The wavy shield intercepted between them. Neville raised a hand in encouragement.

"One knut," whispered Corner to Zacharias.

"Two," Zac replied, leaning his head a little. The room had become silent since Seamus challenged his best friend. McGonagall crossed her arms; whatever made it work.

" _Impedimenta!_ " yelled Dean, a rush of green light streaming out of his wand and hitting Seamus' well placed shield. But, the shield broke under the pressure of Dean. Quickly, Seamus' features hardened as he began to back up.

" _Incarcerous!"_ Seamus yelled, sending a jet of black ropes from the tip of his wand. Dean easily repelled them with a flick of his wand.

" _Obsurco!"_ Dean swirled his wand, causing a blindfold to appear over Seamus' eyes. " _Petrificus Totalus!"_

Seamus froze in his tracks, a laugh etched on his frozen face. Neville raced out to clap Dean on the back as the room began to cheer. Corner held out his hand for Zac to put his Knut into. With a growl, Zac stuffed two Knuts into his palm and joined Hermione in un-petrifying Seamus. When Seamus awoke, he pulled off the blindfold and jumped up with a quirky grin.

"Good job Dean!" he exclaimed. "Always knew you had it in ya!"

"Very good, Mr. Thomas," McGonagall nodded her head. "Anyone else want to try?"

"I do," Zac said, stepping in front of the crowd. The rest of the students backed away so it was only he and Hermione in the rectangular space. Hermione sighed: What was he playing at? He couldn't beat her and he knew it.

"Very well," McGonagall said. "Miss Granger."

Under the immense pressure of everyone watching her, Hermione raised her wand. Zac raised his in turn. The two locked eyes from across the room: his ocean blue ones on her hazel ones. At that very moment, Hermione couldn't help but notice how good looking Zac had become. His dirty blonde hair shone under the light, he had become muscular, and even the underneath of his white shirt had come untucked in his private dueling matches. He was almost unkempt.

" _Relashio!"_ Hermione yelled, sending a wave of ivory light out of her wand.

" _Protego Maxima!"_ Zac bellowed, sweeping his wand across his face, causing his shield to absorb the spell. " _Stupefy!"_

 _"Protego!"_ She was impressed. So far, Zac was keeping her on her toes. " _Confrigo!"_

After a few more attempts at shooting spells at one another, they resorted to not speaking their spells. Hermione used a Confundo Charm in an attempt to daze him, but he reflected that into the wall. She took a deep breath to calm herself and sent sparks of fire shooting out of her wand to which Zac countered with a water spell. McGonagall's eyes raised. Hermione shot a stunning jinx across the room, which caught Zac off guard, sending him fumbling backwards. She used that moment, bringing her wand back, and using all her might, produced a large wave of light that sent Zac flying back into the stone wall. He fell to the ground, but quickly gave a thumbs up.

"That was the most fun I've had in ages. Care for another go, Granger?" he asked. She saw there was blood coming from his lip. Suddenly, she felt responsible.

"No, no, you're bleeding," she said and pointed to her lip. Zac touched his fingertips to his lip, then wiped it off with his sleeve.

"Ah, well. Just goes to show I can't beat you yet. I may have to keep practicing," he said with a grin. Seamus eyed Hermione curiously to which she rolled her eyes.

"That's enough for today," McGonagall said. "I want you all out of here before anything else gets destroyed. Go on now. We'll meet tomorrow."

The room cleared out fairly quickly, but Hermione stayed behind, tapping her wand against her hands. She was deep in thought about Harry and Ron, and how she would've loved for them to be here with her now.

"Is something on your mind, Miss Granger?" McGonagall asked as she sat behind her desk.

"Yes and no," she sighed.

"How is Mr. Malfoy?"

"He's… reading," she stumbled on her words, still lost in thoughts of her best friends.

"Reading? I hardly expected that of him."

"Me too," she shrugged. Then, a thought occurred to her. "Professor, what is to happen to him if we get attacked? Shouldn't he have means to protect himself?"

McGonagall sighed and removed her glasses. "Indeed he should. The problem is: I can't trust Mr. Malfoy with a wand right now, Miss Granger. You of all people should understand this –"

"What if he practices for just a few hours a day?" Hermione chirped, not knowing what even possessed her to ask.

"I have to say that I don't think he's ready yet. When you are sure he is not volatile and won't try anything to escape, we will see," McGonagall told her.

"I just wish he would stop being such an ass. It's almost as though he gloats me on just to see what my reaction to him is going to be."

"Now, that sounds more like the Draco Malfoy I've known for seven years," McGonagall chuckled. "You could always ignore him, Miss Granger. For some reason, it's worked on men for several centuries."

"Ignore him?" Hermione repeated. Why hadn't she thought of that?

"Yes. Let me know how it goes. You may be in for a surprise," the Professor gave her a smile. "Good job today. If I'm not mistaken, it seems as though you may have an admirer."

Zac. "Yes, he's been trying to see me quite a bit lately. The feeling is not reciprocated, Professor. I have… bigger things on my plate."

"I understand," McGonagall had a grandmotherly look in her eyes. "Don't try to get your hopes up, Hermione, dear. You can't force someone to change and see things the way you do. They only change when they want too."

"I know, Professor, thank you. I really must be going. I have papers due in the morning," Hermione murmured and took her exit.

As she walked back to her dorm, she couldn't help but wonder why she had asked McGonagall to let Malfoy have his wand back. That was incredibly dangerous… She didn't understand it herself. Her thoughts fell on Harry and Ron again, and how just two years ago, they had formed the D.A. Look how far it had come now. Merlin, she hoped they were okay and would send word soon. It had been months since she had heard from them. Then, her thoughts fell on Zac and how he looked at her before they dueled. How she thought he had grown up to be a good looking young man; full of promise. Then, right before the panther on her door came into view, she thought of Malfoy and the hell that she was about to walk into as soon as she muttered her password.

Draco was waiting for her, on the couch, with a book in his lap. When he looked up and saw her petite form come inside, he knew she didn't notice him. He let her walk over to the kitchen and drop her bag on the table before dropping the book loudly on the floor and standing up. Hermione twitched only slightly to his disappointment.

"So, what did you learn today, Mudblood?" he asked sarcastically, walking up behind her.

Hermione eyed her room. She could just go in there and ignore him, like McGonagall advised her too. "Nothing you would be interested in."

"Oh? Not surprising. You were probably too busy dreaming about that red haired weasel to concentrate in class."

She missed it when they weren't arguing. Draco stared at her from the side, noting how she didn't flinch at his words or actions. He waited for her to bite her bottom lip before she spat him, like she always did. But, it didn't come. He reasoned the only reason he knew that she did that was because after you live in isolation with a person for so long, you begin to know their every move: how they react, how they speak. It wasn't because he was growing accustomed to her. It was because he had nothing better to do these days than to notice these things in his long hours of nothingness.

But, today, she didn't try to render an argument back. Her cherry colored lips didn't spit fire at him like they had for the past few months. Not knowing what to do, his fists curled into balls at his sides, his anger flaring in grey eyes. How dare she ignore him.

"I will not be ignored by you, Granger!"

Hermione wasn't paying that close of attention to him. Her thoughts were on Harry and Ron and her parents… Anything to keep her from coming back to the reality she was in. He demanded that she look at him, and slowly, she raised her hazel eyes from his socks to his grey orbs. They were angry, desperate even. But tonight, she wasn't giving into him.

"Fucking Mudblood! Say something to me!" he roared in her face.

"I feel sorry for you," she said, and it was quite the truth. It was all that needed to be said. Seeing the look of surprise in his eyes, she turned and went into her bedroom without another word.

Draco lowered himself to his bed after shouting a few nasty comments at her bedroom door. When he hadn't gotten a response, he realized that the argument was over and she wasn't coming out. But, she had said she felt sorry for him. Sorry for what? For him being trapped in this hell-hole with her? Stupid Gryffindor's, always feeling sorry for people, always trying to be heroes, always trying to cover up their stupidity with bravery…

He couldn't wrap his head around it. Why had she said that she was sorry for him? The more he thought about it, the more it screwed with his head. She shouldn't have had to sympathize to him. She shouldn't have done anything at all except stand there while he yelled at her.

Because the yelling helped.

But, so did her eyes. Her gazes. Her singing in the mornings that reminded him of home.

Draco stripped himself down and lowered himself onto his bed, pulling the covers up to his shoulders. He could feel the walls closing in on him now and his claustrophobia really beginning to set in. With a sigh, he turned over to see a sixth year Herbology book sitting on his bedside table. He needed something to do to keep him from overanalyzing… So, he pulled the book to him and began to read. Even then, his thoughts couldn't keep from replaying those five words in his head: " _I feel sorry for you."_

* * *

The two companions ignored eachother for the better part of the weekend. Hermione would always wake Draco in the mornings directly at eight with her heavy footing and moving around, but she would sing the lyrics to songs he would never know that lulled him back to sleep. He didn't know what was worse: that she woke him up every morning and interrupted his precious sleep or that she was able to make him fall back asleep not ten minutes later by merely singing.

Even though he attempted to focus on reading in his lonely hours, his mind always came around to why she was sympathizing. What could she possibly gain? It was humiliating having a Mudblood feel sorry for you.

He still wasn't sleeping well. He awoke with his head throbbing and his body covered in sweat. Draco thought being back at Hogwarts would soothe his nightmares, but evidently, he was wrong. It was always the same: on the Astronomy Tower, Potter attacking him, blood… So much blood. Every morning, he would awake with a start, bitter and pissed at the world. But, the moment she began to sing, he always felt his eyelids droop, and the warmth crawl back up his spine. If this were a different life, he would've complimented her on how beautiful her voice was. Instead, he lay in his bed, head hung in relish, that only she was able to make him fall back asleep.

* * *

Hermione's classes the next week weren't incredibly difficult. Instead of going back to her dorm where the Slytherin was, she would retreat to the library, where she would do her homework, catch up on sleep, or do a little bit of both. During the evenings, she would practice with the D.A. and attempt to escape from Zac's advances towards her. No matter if he fancied her, she didn't fancy him, and it was becoming irritating. Seamus would point out when Zac glanced at her, or the hopeful smiles he shot in her direction. After telling Seamus to bugger off, once a little too meanly, he had stopped but asked Hermione not to let him down easy because he was the biggest prat Seamus knew. It didn't help that the Head Boy and Head Girl were forced to do things together, like figure Prefect duties, go to Quidditch games, and plan school events together. There were times where she was actually happy to escape Zac's clutches and go to her dorm because at least there, she could express her anger. In front of Zac, well, that was out of the question.

Draco noticed when Hermione didn't come home when she was supposed to. He had memorized her schedule from the moment she woke up to the moment she went to bed, and wasn't proud of it. But, what else was there to do? The days were becoming jumbled, and honestly, he didn't even know what day it was. Gradually, she was spending less and less time in her dorm, and more and more time out in the castle. But, what was she doing? Did she have a lover? That thought gave him an odd sensation in his chest. He hardly thought that she would abuse her Head Girl authority by harassing first-years, so where in the world was she? This thought occurred to him as he paced back and forth in their kitchen that night, hands behind his back.

It was nearing two in the morning, and he was hungry. All of the dry food, he had already consumed and he still hadn't any idea how to make something good without magic. So, once again, he was completely at the Mudblood's mercy. Bloody humiliating.

Draco continued to pace back and forth, lost in his own thoughts. He didn't notice the doorknob open, and he didn't see Hermione sneak in. Their dorm was dark except for a few streaks of tattered moonlight coming in through the windows, but even that wasn't enough to illuminate the room. Quietly, Hermione made her way to the refrigerator, but not before colliding with a strong back in the process and tumbling to the floor.

"What the f—" Draco turned and caught her by her wrist. It was instinct, nothing more. But, the force of her body falling backwards made him fall down with her. She hit the front of the cabinets, and he hit the back of his head on the edge of the kitchen table. He had let her wrist go at some point, maybe when it was inevitable that both of them were going to fall, and now they were on opposite sides of the kitchen, staring at one another in with startled eyes.

"Malfoy! What are you doing?" Hermione demanded, her hand over her rapidly beating heart.

"Bloody hell, Granger! Don't you ever watch where you're going?" Malfoy snarled. He winced as he brought his hand to the back of his head. Blood. So it did leave a gash.

"It's dark, I didn't see you –"

"Yeah, that much is apparent," he growled.

"I'm not used to running into someone when I'm on my way to bed. Don't try to start another argument with me, Malfoy, now is really not the time –"

"Did it sound like I was trying to start an argument with you, Granger? No, so piss off," Draco replied with gritted teeth. The back of his head was throbbing.

Hermione clamored to her feet and turned the lights on to the kitchen, seeing the pool of blood collecting on the back of Draco's head and side of his face. With concern, she knelt down beside him.

"You're bleeding. When you fell you must've hit your head –"

Draco scowled. "Yes, Granger, thank you for pointing out the fucking obvious. I am bleeding –"

"Let me look at it," Hermione muttered, not giving him much of a choice other than to let her do it. He rolled his grey eyes, but allowed her to move his blonde hair back to examine the deep gash in his head. Even as she did that, his eyes squinted together painfully. He never did handle pain well… "I'm going to heal it for you."

"I don't need you to heal –"

"Shut up," she commanded, and he could feel the warm tingle of healing on the base of his spine.

He had never forgotten how magic made him feel: warm and giddy. It reached up to where the gash was, and even though he couldn't physically see it, he knew the gash was being healed by Granger's wand. It was a soothing sensation, and for a few moments, his eyes were no longer squinted shut, just closed, enjoying it. Another sensation came as well: the feeling of soft fingertips on the base of his shoulder and neck. His eyes popped open to see Granger was balancing herself so she could heal him properly. It had been a long time since he had felt another human's skin against his own. The last time, which he remembered with distaste, had been Pansy, about a year ago. Their on again off again relationship was tedious and confusing, and he had left in the past a long time ago. Granger's touch wasn't like Pansy's… It was softer, filled with care and innocence. He found himself enjoying it and wondered if under different circumstances –

"All finished," Hermione sat back on her ankles, waiting for him to say something. But, he didn't.

Thinking of Pansy reminded him that he was, in fact, a Slytherin and Slytherins are not meant to be touched _or helped or healed_ by Gryffindor's. He did not thank her, instead he bounded to his feet when his instincts became clear of where he was and what had happened.

"I didn't need your help, Mudblood," he snarled down at her, his fists tightly balled at his sides.

"Malfoy, I just wanted to help..."

"Don't _ever_ touch me again," he warned her.

Draco noticed that through their altercation, her cardigan had come off and her white shirt was speckled with drops of red. Her tie was loose and her hair had fallen out of its ponytail. They had even managed to put a rip in the right leg of her stockings. For some reason, seeing her tussled was somewhat… alluring. Muttering a string of swear words, he retreated to his room, leaving Hermione on the floor, confused and alone.

 _Why did I even entertain that idea?!_ He paced around his bedroom, just as he was pacing before, occasionally kicking things like the dresser or the bedframe. Why was she alluring? Was it her smell, her singing, what was it? Draco racked his head for reason, but couldn't find it. He had seen many girls tousled, with their ties slack around their necks, and their shirts halfway unbuttoned. After all, he _was_ Draco Malfoy. The memories of girls leaving his dorm bed, buttoning their shirts and putting their hair back up into ponytails were many. But, Pansy hadn't even allured him in the way that Granger did, and he had seen every inch of Pansy. What did this mean? Wherever these confused feelings went, he didn't like it. Finally, he settled on the fact that Hermione was messing with his head. Even if it wasn't completely true, the thought made him feel better enough to fall asleep.


	6. Chapter 6

_Good morning all! I find the best thing about writing is listening to the music. While writing this, I've listened to the DH soundtrack so many times it's ridiculous. But, I love it. While writing last chapter, I spent a good hour watching Seamus scenes to get his personality right. I had a good laugh ;D Anyways, read on my loves. And REVIEW_

Chapter 6: Bad news in big packages

Hermione sat at her desk in Professor Vector's classroom, lazily watching Neville struggle with his arithmetic. She had finished her assignment half an hour ago, like usual. Normally, she would've pulled out a book or began to work on another assignment, but her mind was wandering. It stopped on Malfoy, and the look he'd given her last night when she had healed the ugly gash on the back of his head. It was almost peace, almost accepting of her. But, he was so quick to deny it, so quick to just jump up and leave. But, his look had given her hope… Maybe things were changing.

"Hermione, do you know what the answer to thirty-seven is?" Neville whispered from across Seamus.

"Oi, don't be telling him answers, Granger," Seamus' head poked up and waved a finger in her direction. Neville frowned. "Longbottom's good at arithmetic, he just doesn't know it yet."

"Just like you're good at blowing things up," Neville countered. Seamus turned his head to look at Neville then back to Hermione in almost shock.

"Do you hear this bloke? Good at blowing things up? Well, I'll have you know –"

"Shut up, Seamus," Dean hit Seamus from the seat behind him with a piece of parchment.

Hermione glanced at her parchment. "Nine hundred and thirty two point five three."

"Knew it," Neville said happily and scribbled down the answer.

"Damn it, Longbottom, how'd you know that? You had to ask for help, you wanker. Hermione, how'd you get that?" Seamus asked, pulling himself away from his scrap parchment. "My answer's way off."

Hermione leaned her arms on her books, then put her chin between them. "Did you carry the seven?"

"Yes, look!" Seamus showed her his parchment. Hermione spotted his mistake and corrected it: the seven was on the wrong line. "Blimey, that was simple."

"Sometimes, the simplest things are overlooked," Hermione smiled and offered Seamus his quill back.

"You seem to be doing better, Hermione," Neville commented, now finished with his assignment.

"Thanks, Neville. I've come to terms with a lot of things recently," she said and laid her head on the side of her books. "I still worry about Harry and Ron like there's no tomorrow though."

"We all do. Have you heard from them?" Neville asked. Seamus' ears perked up and he turned to listen in.

"No," Hermione sighed in disappointment. "I should've heard from them by now, but it's been months. The last time I spoke to them was before they left."

"They're alright," Seamus chimed in. "This is Harry we're talking about. He's got some smarts to him. Weasley on the other hand…"

Neville stiffened a chuckle, but Hermione thought of what Draco had said before: " _I wouldn't be surprised if we found his body in the woods somewhere, died of illness. Or even better, splinched."_

"I'm sure they'll send word soon," Hermione said, more to herself than her friends.

Professor Vector dismissed class, and the group of four walked out the door together. Neville was still reprimanding Seamus for his ability to blow things up, and Dean was chuckling in the back. As she passed the staircase, she saw Zac on the other side, talking to Corner. They met eyes, and his lips turned into an upward smile. Hermione's eyes widened and stepped between Seamus and Neville in an attempt to hide from the oncoming onslaught.

"Blimey," Seamus exclaimed, nearing losing his balance. But, then he saw Zac's intense stare in their direction. "Granger, have you told him you're not interested?"

"No," sighed Hermione unhappily as they entered the Great Hall for dinner. "He's Head Boy… I'm sure that would make it awkward when we're doing our duties together…"

They sat down at their usual spot. Dean chose to sit beside Hermione instead of Seamus this time, hoping to help shield her from Zac. "Hermione, it's better not to lead guys on. They hate it, especially when they are borderline obsessed with you."

"How do you know that Zac is borderline obsessed with me?" Hermione asked blankly.

"Well, he's always sending smiles in your direction, and he's always trying to walk you to classes. I've heard him talk about you a few times in the lavatory," Dean shrugged, helping himself to some chicken and mashed potatoes.

"What's he say?" Hermione revolted, her hazel eyes wide with curiosity.

"Just the usual gossip, Hermione," Dean replied. "Don't get your head wrapped up in it. However, it were me, I would try to push a girl away. I don't know what this nonsense is about courting."

"Coming from you," Neville said with a mouth full of yams. "You courted Ginny last year, don't you remember?"

Dean chuckled. "Oh yes, but that was because of Weasley. If he hadn't been in the picture, I would've ignored her."

Hermione suddenly looked at Dean, interested in this technique of pushing girls away. It was something she hadn't heard of before. "Dean, why would you try to push a girl away? And how would you do it?"

Seamus took a sip of pumpkin juice, his chin in his palm, staring at Dean like he knew the world about women. Which he obviously didn't.

"Well… True men don't like to admit when they like a girl, especially a girl who's off limits," Dean explained. "For example, I fancied Katie Bell something fierce a few years back, but she was off limits because she was dating Wood. But, every time she would talk to me, I would either ignore her or be mean to her. Because for some reason, that intrigues women."

"Were you ever nice to her?" Hermione asked, finding herself caught up in conversation.

"Oh yes, absolutely. But, not for a long time," Dean said and scooped mashed potatoes into his mouth. "If you're wondering about Zac, I just think he's looking for a good time. He wants to get you on a first-name basis."

"He wants a quick shag," Seamus explained when Hermione's eyes narrowed in confusion. "As soon as that's over, he'll dump you like a Whomping Willow dumps its leaves."

"Seamus," Neville shook his head softly.

"Oh, did I go too far?" Seamus asked with genuine concern. "I'm sorry, Hermione, but he's the biggest prat I know."

"Miss Granger," McGonagall's voice came from over her shoulder. Quickly, she turned around to see the older witch behind her.

"Evening, Professor," Seamus said, mouth full of chicken.

"Good evening, Mr. Finnigan," McGonagall replied. "May I have a word, Miss Granger?"

Something cold and fierce manifested in Hermione's chest as she left the table and followed McGonagall into the hallway. She managed to evade Zac's glaring eyes, but found her breaths quickening as panic raced through her head. As soon as they were out of earshot from the students, Hermione couldn't hold back her fright.

"Harry and Ron, are they okay?" Hermione asked breathlessly.

"Yes, Miss Granger, in fact they sent word," McGonagall said with a smile. Hermione's soft features visibly relaxed, and the Professor pulled a piece of sealed parchment from her robes.

Hermione took it, ripped open the seal and the two witches began to read:

 _We Destroyed it._

 _Ollivander and Gregorovitch._

 _We love you and miss you._

Not knowing exactly what to think of their short message, Hermione skimmed through the parchment quite a few times before looking back to McGonagall. The old witch's eyes pressed her for information, but Hermione only knew what one of the lines meant.

"They found the real locket and destroyed it," Hermione muttered, reading through the passage again. "But what does Ollivander and Gregorovitch have to do with anything?"

"I don't know, Miss Granger, but you are going to find out. They wouldn't have sent it if they didn't want you to know," McGonagall said and laid a hand on her shoulder. "I'm not asking you to figure it out right away, but the sooner we know, the better."

"Professor," mumbled Hermione. "How could they have destroyed the locket? They didn't have anything to destroy Horcruxes with them when they left."

"Once again, I don't know, Hermione, but the sooner we find out, the better," McGonagall replied, and with a small squeeze of Hermione's shoulder, she was back down the hallway.

* * *

Hermione didn't join her friends in the Great Hall after McGonagall had left. Instead, she went straight to the library, on a mission to help her friends in whatever way possible. Gregorovitch _, Gregorovitch…_ Why did that name sound so familiar? And what did he have to do with Ollivander? Hermione skimmed books until it came to her: Ollivander was a wand maker. She pulled a book on wandlore and sat down in her usual spot, skimming until she realized nothing was going to be found in the book. Although, she grabbed a piece of parchment and began taking notes. Heavily defeated, and suddenly tired, she grabbed the parchment and proceeded to head back to her dorm.

The lights were on when Hermione stepped inside, despite Draco not being anywhere in sight. The door to his room was closed, thank Merlin, so she hurried to the kitchen table and placed her parchment on it. Running into her room, she grabbed all the notes she had taken on Horcruxes, determined to make at least some progress tonight. She spread them out on the kitchen table, grabbed a quill, and began searching. For what? She didn't know.

Draco heard her come in, and he scowled. She was bloody thunderous. He threw the book he was reading: _The Essence of Polyjuice_ down on the bed and swung open his bedroom door to see her right hand scribbling quickly on a piece of parchment. It was too rushed for schoolwork, so what was she doing? Curiosity peaked him, so he walked over to her, taking long strides. On the top of the parchment was a letter, scratched in raw ink and folded crudely. Without even reading it, he knew it was from the immortal orphan and the weasel. But, his grey eyes skimmed it anyway.

"What does Potter want with Gregorovitch?" Draco demanded.

Hermione jumped, startled that he was beside her. She hadn't even realized Draco had come out of his room. Under pure pressure and frustration, Hermione grabbed the letter and tucked it under her parchment.

"Answer me, Granger! What does Potter want with Gregorovitch?" Draco repeated, his voice a little louder.

"I don't know!" Hermione replied, then it occurred to her. "You know who Gregorovitch is?"

"And you don't?" Draco raised an eyebrow. Hermione's blank face told it all. She didn't. This could be used against her and her know-it-all personality. "Well, that's surprising, I thought that the girl who knows everything would at least know –"

"Who is he, Malfoy?" Hermione yelled, now rising to her feet. She thought that hearing from her friends would make her happy and relieved, but instead it made her angry and tormented. All she wanted to do was help them, and if Malfoy had the answers, she was going to get it out of him.

"No, no, no, Granger," he said coolly. "How's it feel to have to ask for help?"

Hermione's eyes narrowed. There was that fire again. "Tell me _now._ "

"Nah, maybe I'll wait until tomorrow… It's getting late, and I have such a busy schedule –"

"MALFOY!"

The ends of Draco's lips perked. He liked to watch her beg. She knew she was beneath him. He had more power over her now, and he intended to bask in it. "I don't know, Granger. Why should I help the boy who sticks his nose into everything and the red haired pauper?"

"Because, this is about Voldemort! Somehow, I know it is!"

"Was the letter a little, I don't know, vague? Obviously they don't want you to know as much as they do," Malfoy said, stepping a tad closer to her. Her hazel eyes narrowed, and he cast a look down to her notes on the parchment. "How to destroy Horcruxes, huh? So are we involved in some dark magic, here, Granger?"

"That is none of your concern –"

"Or maybe it is. Your stupid Order drug me into this, and I at least have a right to know what's going on," his lips pursed. "And now... you need my help."

His words made the blood in Hermione's veins turn to slush. All this time, Malfoy was under their command because they were helping him. But, now, Hermione found herself needing to know who Gregorovitch was, now.

"Tell me Malfoy," she said through gritted teeth.

"Or else, what? They're going to die? Honestly, Granger, I'm quite shocked they haven't already considering Potter's always throwing emotional temper tantrums and Weasley's as dumb as a box of candied chestnuts –"

Hermione's frustration took over. Malfoy was so intent on looking at her face, into her eyes, that he didn't realize her right fist came up and caught him right in the jaw. It wasn't a particularly hard punch, but it was enough to make him stagger backwards and hit the cabinets of the kitchen. As he steadied himself and put a hand to his aching jaw, he noticed her wand was out. Draco squared his shoulders, still recovering from the punch, and then a foul ache in his lungs sent him flying backwards into his room. His back had struck the edge of his bedframe, making for a nasty shock on his spine. His hands were clutching his ribs where the hex hit him, as he looked up to see Hermione's feet and upper legs in his doorway.

"Tell me who he is, Malfoy," she commanded, her breaths ragged. Her body was shaking now, her wand was even unsteady.

Draco looked up to her, his vision only slightly cloudy. Her eyes were wide, but tears were threatening to fall off her lashes. He knew he had pushed her over her breaking point, but that's what was so fun about harassing her. Even if it meant dealing with a few bruised ribs and spine. One more insult and she would be on him full throttle, and even though he was in pain, he couldn't help but want to see her burst.

"You're not getting anything out of me, you filthy Mudblood," he snarled.

He could see it broke her. Something inside her snapped. Maybe it was the way she stared at him intently, and now it was almost as if daggers were shooting from her eyes. She was unstable, and he knew it. Hermione cocked her head slightly, never breaking her gaze from his eyes, and then she crouched down so she was at the same level as he was.

"You're going to tell me who he is, or I'm going to start hexing you against that wall until you get the message," she whispered. Draco still didn't reply to her. All he did was struggle to contain a growl rising in the bottom of his throat. But, he watched in dreaded fascination as Hermione got to her feet. "This is your last chance, Malfoy."

"Piss off, Granger," he spat.

Suddenly, he felt himself rising off the floor. Hermione held her wand steady this time, focusing on him, as he levitated.

"Granger, what the fuck are you doing?" he demanded, starting to panic. She hadn't been joking: she was going to slam him into the wall. But, he noticed the look in her eyes, and to him, she had never been so beautiful.

But, Hermione's gaze was eerily calm. With a flick, she sent him flying into the wall behind his bed. Another groan escaped his lips as he fell, hitting the side of his headboard with his leg, and then crumbling onto the floor like a pathetic piece of parchment. Draco was sure at least one of his ribs had cracked now, and he held it like it was a newborn.

"What the hell are you doing?" he asked. But, she didn't answer. With another flick of her wand, she stepped closer to him, trapping him between the exit into the common room and the wall behind him.

"I told you," she replied.

Draco noticed there was blood dripping onto the floor. He didn't know where it was coming from, or where he was all he was injured, just that he was in a heap of pain… and blood… The beauty that he saw in her vanished as he brought himself to his knees with mortification. How could she do this to him? It was damn close to torture. His gaze met hers, noticing that she had broken out of her trance, and was leaning with her back against the wall opposite him, her eyes fearful and her breaths heaving. Her wand had dropped to the floor beside her and she looked disgusted with herself.

They didn't speak for a moment, just locked mortified stares on the scene that she had just caused. Neither of them knew what to say or what to do. The worst thing was, Draco had thought, if it was only for a split second, that she was beautiful.

There was too much happening right now, even though nothing was physically happening at all. Emotions soared under Draco's skin: anger, disgust, confusion… He didn't know how to distinguish them, so he just held her gaze until she moved.

"Oh, God," Hermione stuttered, finally coming to realization of what she had done to him. "Oh, my God… Draco, I am so sorry, I didn't mean to –"

He realized that she was coming towards him, and instinctively raised a hand to shield himself. Hermione's breath caught with a sharp sting. Did he really think she was going to hurt him?

"Do not come any closer to me," he warned her, scooting as far back against the wall as he could, now on his bum and cradling his ribs. "I swear if you do, I will kill you!"

Hermione's eyes began to fill with tears when she realized that he was clutching at his chest. There was blood falling down his cheeks, from his lips. She had caused this… She had… tortured… Malfoy because he wouldn't give her the information she wanted. It disgusted her... That's what Voldemort did, not the Order. They weren't evil.

"Draco, please," she pleaded with him. "Please, just let me help –"

A stinging came from his ribs again, and he winced. "What have you done to me?"

"I'm so so sorry, I just lost control, I didn't mean for this to happen," Hermione whimpered, tears now falling from her lashes onto the floor. He saw they mixed with the stream of his blood. _Oh God,_ he felt like he was going to vomit.

With every amount of strength Draco could muster, he rose up to his quaky feet and began to move past her.

"Where are you going?" Hermione whispered, getting to her feet in an effort to follow him.

"Stay the fuck away from me," he growled, stomping to the bathroom and slamming the door behind him.

Hermione had fallen to the ground, morbidly disgusted with what she had done to him. Her cries became heaves, and her heaves became screams of terror. She curled herself up into a ball on Draco's bed, noticing it smelled of peppermint and musk: the smell of a Slytherin. She didn't know why, but for some unknown reason, her senses found it comforting and her cries began to subside. After she let it all out, her stomach was clenched so tight, it began to burn. She let that burning continue, after all, she deserved it.

In the bathroom, Draco had vomited twice, each time making his ribs ache a little more. Wincing in pain, he sat against the bathroom door, listening to Hermione's pitiful cries. He sighed, his grey eyes closing. He should've just given her the information that she wanted, and this could've all been avoided. Maybe he deserved it, for being such a spiteful prude. But, then again, he wanted to yell, scream, carry on about what she did to him. He had a half a mind to go back in there, scream at her to get out of _his_ room… but no. No, that wasn't necessary. He was feeling morbidly guilty, and he hadn't felt this feeling since the night on top of the Astronomy Tower. Merlin's Beard… He just wanted her to stop crying. Never once, not even when Pansy cried after he had said their relationship was over (for countless times), had crying affected him. He actually quite enjoyed it. But, there was something different about Hermione's crying. It did make him feel guilty about egging her on… It was then when he realized that he didn't hate Hermione Granger.

* * *

Draco didn't know how long he was in the bathroom for. It could've been months for all he knew. But, he had managed to catch a wink of sleep before waking up startled to the wind on the window. By looking outside, he saw that it was still dark. The lights to the bathroom were still on, and he saw there was some blood on the ground: his blood. With a roll of his eyes, he realized he wasn't comfortable here and decided to go to his room. He needed the solitude anyway.

Their Common Room was dark, but the lights to his bedroom were on, and he shuffled over there, not particularly concerned about being quiet. When he entered the doorframe, he saw that Hermione had curled herself up in the center of his bed. With an agitated sigh and a string of swear words, he turned back around. But, he heard movement on his bed and stopped moving.

"Draco?"

Merlin, he hated it when she used his given name. Was that the basis they were on now?

"What, Granger?" he asked, more menacingly than he probably should have. When she didn't answer, he turned back around to see her damp cheeks, her swollen eyes, and her messy hair. She was still even in her school uniform. His shoulders sagged. "Spit it out."

"I'm sorry," she sighed, fiddling with the hem of his covers.

"Yeah, I think you've made that quite clear," Draco murmured.

"I had no right to do that, and I am so disgusted with myself –"

"I know, Granger, you said that too," he drawled with a roll of his eyes.

"Can I see?" she whimpered, almost as if she was still trying to believe she caused bodily harm on him.

Merlin knows why, but Draco took a few cautious steps over to his bed, and sat down next to her. He looked up at her; she was almost in disbelief. She carefully and slowly placed a hand on the arm that was clutching his ribs, and he had half a notion to force her away, but he didn't. After all, she had the magic not him.

"I'm so sorry," she apologized over and over to the point past where Draco had accepted her apology and just wanted to move forward. "I hate to ask this, but you may have to remove your sweater…"

 _For Fuck's sake…_ Draco strained to remove his sweater over the top of his head so Hermione could see how badly his ribs were bruised and/or cracked. He wasn't able to see them, but the look on her face said it all: it was bad. With a sigh that burned, Draco sat as Hermione pulled out her wand and started healing him. He felt the warm gush of gold over his spine again, traveling up to his ribs. He basked in it because for a few moments, he thought he wasn't ever going to feel this again.

"I'm so sorry," Hermione continued to apologize. "I won't ever do this to you again, please believe me, Draco."

Her continuous apologizes and honesty made Draco sigh. He didn't want to yell at her anymore, he didn't want to reprimand her for doing this to him. Right now, all he wanted was her to sing… To lull him into a peaceful slumber after she was done healing him.

"Draco, please say something," she pleaded, leaning back now, half to study her healing, half to study his face.

"Don't ever do anything like this again," Draco muttered. "If you do, Granger, the second I get out of this hell hole and get my wand back, I will inflict the same thing on you."

"I understand," she said carefully and went back to healing him.

Hermione, in all her spite, had noticed Draco was a very defined young wizard. His ivory skin was so creamy it reminded her of satin, and his abs only slightly defined, but that was enough. He wasn't bulky, but not scrawny either. Draco Malfoy… Who would've guessed? She bit back the feeling of finding him the least bit attractive, and continued with her healing spells, still feeling horribly guilty. Her gaze wandered to the floor where a tattered page of _The Essence of Polyjucie_ lay on the floor, droplets of blood on its pages.

"I think I should get some new books," she murmured, putting the final touches on healing his wounds.

"Do whatever you want, Granger."

"Well, you just seem to read through them so quickly…"

"There's nothing else to do, and when you have an insufferable bookworm for a roommate—" Hermione stiffened a smile. "What's so funny?"

"Nothing, carry on," Hermione said, and he noted the smile in her voice.

"Anyway, when you have an insufferable bookworm for a roommate, I have barely any options other than to read. Now, are you finished?"

Hermione put the last touch of the healing spell on his ribs. There was color coming back to his face as she pulled her wand away. Draco hurriedly put his sweater back on, and suddenly, he missed the touch of her fingertips on his skin.

"Does it hurt?" she asked, almost innocently.

"No, Granger. Now, piss off," he said.

Hermione sighed, and scooted off his bed, looking behind her at the wizard. He returned her gaze, only for a moment, and maybe, she thought she saw a hint of longing there too. She opened her lips, on the verge of starting another conversation, but decided against it, and left the room.

When she was out of earshot, Draco finally took a breath. He swore that she was messing with his mind with her kindness, all her damn apologies. But, even as he recounted the last few days with her, he couldn't bring himself to hate her, to despise her for what she had done. In fact, it opened his eyes that even someone as pure as Hermione Granger had a breaking point, and he had pushed her past it. It had effected his psyche in bad ways, almost impure ways. He couldn't get her out of his head.


	7. Chapter 7

_I've been spending wayyyy too much time in front of this laptop lately, but that's okay. Tomorrow, I go back to work, so I'll try to update as soon as possible. Who knows? I may crank out a few chapters tonight. My favorite scenes to write are dueling scenes, next to the ones where Draco is slowly becoming more human. I seriously can't wait to put my own take on the Battle of Hogwarts. AAAAHHH! (: Thank you Frogster for your review, and to put some insight in that: There wasn't enough of Seamus, Neville, and Dean in the books, so I wanted to expand on them, as I think they are some of the most overlooked characters. Draco is obviously in denial, and Hermione does have bit of Slytherin in her, haha. That girl has a lot of built up anger from being harassed by him for years :P Thanks for reading guys, and as always, stick a review up there. Let's me know you guys are still lovin it._

Chapter Seven: Progress

Hermione had left a small stack of new books on the table next to the food she prepared and/or brought for him each day. She hadn't seen him for close to a week now, which was understandable considering the harm she had inflicted on him. In the meantime, she was racking her brain to come up with answers to Harry and Ron's problems. It helped her block out what she had done to the Slytherin, even though on multiple occasions when she had come home from D.A. practice, that she had wished he was waiting for her in the kitchen like he used too. She found herself wishing he would say something to her, even a little taunt.

In her quest for knowledge to help her friends, she had found close to nothing. It was the same ordeal on this stormy night, the wind and rain howling against the windows. It was damn close to the middle of November, and she knew something was out of place because of the weather lately. Normally, it would've snowed by now, but all that graced her was wind and rain.

Hermione sighed. She had been through almost every book in the library containing information on Ollivander, wands, and Horcruxes, and still she wasn't any further than she was when McGonagall gave her the letter. It frustrated her beyond belief. Two major questions needed to be answered: Why was Gregorovitch so important and how did the two boys manage to destroy the Horcrux? In almost every waking moment, even in her new found solitude, her mind wandered to every possible answer, yet, nothing came to her. The only way she was going to know who Gregorovitch was is if she asked Draco. But, she had no intention. She could find the information on her own.

The library was a little eerie with the torches spitting fire, and the wind and rain howling against the glass panels of the window. Hermione was never one to be easily frightened, but tonight, she was a little on edge. As she made her way through the library and down the hall, she heard footsteps behind her. Who was it? A teacher? A student? It was late, nearing two in the morning. What could they possibly be out of bed for? A slow churn began to flutter in her stomach as she turned around and breathed a sigh of relief. Zac.

"Hermione," he said with a smile. "Hey, there was a disturbance in the Great Hall, turned out to be nothing, but McGonagall sent me to find you."

"McGonagall did?" Hermione repeated, her eyebrows raised. "At this hour?"

"Yeah, must be bloody important," Zac said. Thunder rumbled, shaking their part of the castle. "Would you like me to walk you to her office?"

If he was implying that she couldn't handle herself, she despised it. But, when another roar of thunder clapped, she nodded, and the two began their way up the stairs.

"Awfully strange weather we're having," Zac commented. "Do you think it's because of You-Know-Who?"

"Undoubtedly," mumbled Hermione.

"When do you think he'll strike, Hermione?" Zac asked. Hermione sensed a flicker of fear come over his eyes. She shoulders sagged and she offered him a small smile.

"Not any time soon, I hope," she said. They reached the top of the stairs to the Headmistress' office, and Zac stood behind, letting her go through. "Thanks for accompanying me."

"Sure," Zac said. "Say, Hermione, I know this is a bad time, but do you think maybe we could get together sometime?"

The bluntness of Zac asking her out made Hermione's head daze. Unsure of what to say, she blinked a few times.

"Zac, there's so much on my plate right now…"

"I know, but I just figured I would ask," Zac shrugged. "Let me know if you change your mind. I'm always here."

He offered her a small smile before stepping away. She could hear his footsteps going down the stairs as she rubbed her temples. _For Merlin's sake…_ Could she ever catch a break? Even a small one? Shaking her head, she knocked on the door to McGonagall's office, waiting for her to say she could enter. When she did, she was surprised to find Professor Snape standing next to McGonagall. She hadn't seen him much this year, once or twice in the halls, sometimes he was coming out of McGonagall's office, but he was never at the table during meals and never in his classroom. Presumably, because of all his spying. But, Hermione closed the door behind her, an undeniable feeling of dread taking over her limbs and making them go weak.

"I'm sorry to call you out of bed so late, Miss Granger," apologized McGonagall.

"No, it's fine, I was just, uh, in the library," Hermione said. She eyed Snape's black eyes, and back to the Headmistress, who ignored her passing eyes.

"We have some good and bad news," McGonagall said. "Please, have a seat."

Hermione sat in the chair in front of McGonagall's desk, slightly intimidated that Snape was standing beside the Professor. She inhaled a deep breath and let it out slowly. McGonagall initiated to Snape to begin speaking. He folded his arms over his chest.

"As a member of the Order, you must know what is going on out there," Snape said softly. "He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named has been attempting to get into the Ministry, as you well know, however, his attempts to gain control have been seized every time. You must understand that this is not saying he won't ever over take the Ministry, but as long as Thicknesse has the right people surrounding him, the Ministry will stand. As for Mr. Potter and Mr. Weasley, Minvera has told me that you have been trying to get the bottom of the mystery. Have you made any progress?"

Hermione sighed. "No. I'm close to finding who Gregorovitch is, but I need a little more time."

"You can have as much time as you need, Miss Granger, but time is running out," McGonagall said. "I'm sorry, dear, but we need to know what we are up against."

"How is Mr. Malfoy?" Snape asked. His black eyes were merciless.

"Fine," Hermione stated quietly.

"Severus and I have conducted a few theories on what can destroy Horcruxes," McGonagall offered. "As you know, Miss Granger, Horcruxes are extremely dark bits of magic. To destroy them is even darker."

"Do you remember Tom Riddle's diary?" asked Snape. Hermione shuddered; how could she forget? "It was indeed a Horcrux, concealing a part of He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named from his time here in the school. Potter destroyed it. How?"

"With a baslisk fang," the words came off Hermione's lips, but her brain was clicking away profusely.

"How did Potter defeat the creature?" Snape asked, his stance unmoving.

It dawned on Hermione then. "The Sword of Gryffindor."

"For a long time, it was locked in this room," McGonagall told her, gesturing to a glass case that no longer had anything to display. "However, Dumbledore thought it best to hide it and to create a fake."

"A fake?" Hermione asked, taken aback.

"A fake," Snape repeated. "A fake that was given to He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named for… ease of mind. He gave it to Bellatrix LeStrange, and it sits in her vault in Gringotts."

"So, does that mean that Harry and Ron have the real one?" Hermione asked, her hazel eyes wide.

"Yes it does, Miss Granger," McGonagall nodded her head in the ever so slightest manner.

"But… How?"

"He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named can sense when the destruction of his Horcruxes are near," Snape explained softly. "I knew Potter must have had one of them when The Dark Lord began to panic. Therefore, I set out to find him, leaving the sword where it could be of assistance for him."

Hermione almost wanted to stand up and give Snape a huge hug and gratitude for helping Harry and Ron, but she remained in her seat, a small grin upon her pretty face. "Thank you, Professor."

"You are free to go, Miss Granger. Please inform us if you find anything," McGonagall said.

Hermione turned out of her chair, wished the two Professors good night, then proceeded back down the hall to her dorm. Despite the sounds of the wind and rain against the old castle, her insides felt warm. Snape had helped them, and if it wasn't for him, Harry and Ron wouldn't be where they were now. Content with life and all of its mysteries, she whispered her password, and when she stepped into her dorm, Draco was still nowhere to be seen. Disappointed and relieved, she dropped her books on the table, as always, and went to her room for a good night's sleep.

* * *

Draco decided that it was time to leave the solitude of his room. Not only was it driving him mad, but it seemed as if the walls were drawing inches closer to him by the minute. After reading all the books Hermione had left him, he ran out of things to do. So, in a leap of courage and Merlin knows what, Draco hopped off his bed and carefully opened his door.

What he saw almost froze him. Hermione was there: curled up on the oversized red chair, with a Gryffindor blanket up to her neck, a book on her knees, and hot tea in her hand. Her hair was pulled back into a messy curly bun, some of the curls fell down to frame her face. Her lips were pink from the hot tea, and her skin was emitting an amber glow from the lights in their Common Room. Her eyes rose from her book, taking in his form. He met her eyes, and stood still for just a moment, before going into the kitchen and pouring himself a bowl of cereal.

For the past week and a half, Draco had been convincing himself that he didn't need her interaction to keep him sane. In fact, he had believed that so much that he was even beginning to enjoy the boundaries of his room. But, there were also little bits of her: her singing, her shuffling, her coming in half past one in the morning, coming from Merlin knows where… He could feel her hazel eyes staring into his back and with a sigh that only he knew about, Draco turned to look at the witch.

"Good morning," she said softly, almost soft enough that Draco had to strain to hear her.

"Yeah," he said and took his bowl of cereal to the kitchen table. He saw her notes, her scribbles about Horcruxes, and guilt raised in his throat once again. "Gregorovitch was a wand maker."

Hermione blinked, almost not believing her ears. Had he really just given that to her? She quickly put her book down and leaned forward in the chair, her legs crossed. Draco rolled his eyes: she looked like a child at Christmas. How more pathetic could she get…

"A wand maker? Well, that explains the relationship to Ollivander," Hermione said. Draco wasn't sure if she was talking to him or herself. "Do you know anything else about him?"

"Not really," Draco sat down at the table, putting his bowl of breakfast next to her pieces of parchment. "Mum said I should've went to him for a wand and that he was better than Ollivander."

"No one in London is better than Ollivander," she said softly. "I've never heard of him."

"That's because he stopped selling wands about three years before I was a first year," Draco retorted. "Went into retirement."

Hermione raised an eyebrow. "Went into retirement?"

"That's what Mum said," Draco shrugged and took a big bite of his breakfast. "Why the smug look, Granger? Got something on your mind?"

Hermione cast her gaze down to the ground. "I just wonder why Harry and Ron would include them in their letter. Obviously, they're important somehow –"

"No shit. What's this shit about Horcruxes?" Draco demanded. "And why were you trying to figure out how to destroy them?"

Hermione sighed, debating whether to tell him the truth or not. She knew technically she wasn't allowed, but he had given her the information she wanted. "Harry and Ron are hunting for them."

"Why?"

"Uhm… well…" she forced herself to look anywhere but him, still surprised that they were even having a civil conversation. "I'm not really supposed to explain—"

"C'mon, Granger, seriously? Don't be bloody ridiculous," Draco retorted.

"They're essential to destroying Voldemort," Hermione sighed in defeat. "They have to find every single one and destroy it before we can destroy him."

Draco slowly nodded, and looked back down at her papers. "I see."

There was an eerie silence between them. Hermione still didn't fully know Draco's allegiance, or whether he had one at all for that matter. Cautiously, she found herself slowly winding her head to look at his left forearm, but its view was obstructed by her parchment. Draco caught her craning her neck, and sighed impatiently.

"Is there something I can help you with?" he drawled, just wanting to eat his cereal. He supposed he could take it to his room, but then he would be out of her company. Why were his feelings so bloody complicated? It was almost like he had to think through every decision he made now precisely to when he was going to do it and why.

"Nothing," she said quickly and pulled herself out of the chair.

But, Draco knew exactly what she had been searching for, and he didn't want her anywhere near it. No, she was too pure, too innocent for such a horrendous mark of evil. He made sure it was covered as she walked past, noting that she didn't try to look for it, and he was glad she didn't.

"Where are you going?" he asked, as he spun around, watching her disappear into her room.

"I need to go tell McGonagall," she replied.

"Great," Draco muttered and went back to eating his breakfast.

No words were exchanged between the two before Hermione left, and Draco found himself wondering why he didn't try to start an argument with her this morning. Could it have been the way she had softly greeted him, or just that he was enthralled to be in her company? Either way, he was still convinced that she was somehow messing with his head, softening him. He chewed on his cereal, lost in thought. That was how he spent the remainder of his days anymore.

* * *

"He was a wandmaker!" Hermione clamored into McGonagall's office, her tone serious and full of worry. "Gregorovitch was a wandmaker!"

McGonagall removed her glasses as the witch bounded up to her. Hermione didn't even notice Snape in the corner, arms crossed. "A wandmaker? That does make sense considering Ollivander was mentioned in the letter."

Hermione watched as McGonagall walked over to where Snape was standing. She saw the look they exchanged: pure worry. Maybe anguish. She couldn't tell, but whatever it was, it gave her an unsettling feeling, as if they knew something that she didn't.

"Go, Severus," McGonagall said.

Snape brushed past Hermione with his dark grace and shut the door behind him. Hermione looked to McGonagall for answers, but she got none.

"You, too, Miss Granger. I will summon you later."

"Professor—"

"I must insist, Hermione. Please assist the others with practice today. I will be out of the office."

With a sigh, knowing that something inevitably had changed, Hermione turned around and left the Headmistress' office. When she was gone, McGonagall cupped her hands against her lips and stared out her window at the grey sky. It was worse than they feared now, much much worse. It wouldn't be long now before Voldemort took over the Ministry. She would have to arrange for somewhere Draco could stay. Maybe with Tonks and Remus. She had sent Blaise Zabini, Theodore Nott, Millicent Bulstrode, even Terence Higgs, to stay with them after the Seventh Years abandoned Hogwarts to join the Death Eaters. Making a mental note to contact the Aurors as soon as possible, she shrugged into her long black coat, popped the collar to cover her neck from the nasty chill outside, and then proceeded to leave her office.

* * *

Neville drummed his fingers along the table as Hermione explained what had just happened in McGonagall's office. Seamus and Dean were both exchanging unsure glances back and forth with one another. Ginny's palm covered her mouth and her eyes shone that she was in very deep concentration.

"So, we know something has changed," Neville told the group aloud. "The question is, what scared Snape and McGonagall once they found out that Gregorovitch was a wandmaker?"

Hermione shook her head in bewilderment. "If I could get word out to Harry and Ron, we would have a clearer answer, but it's too risky. I know nothing about this Gregorovitch except that he sold wands in London and retired three years before we started school."

"I wonder what makes him so important," Dean said quietly.

"Wait," Hermione said absently, Draco's words coming into her head again. "Wait…"

Hermione rose from her position on the couch in the Gryffindor Common Room and began to pace back and forth. She didn't know that her four friends were staring at her curiously. Seamus pulled a Milk Chocolate Bar from Honeydukes out from his pocket, which earned a whisper of how he'd gotten his hands on it from Dean. Hermione didn't notice. Draco said his mother wanted him to go there because Gregorovitch was supposedly better than Ollivander. But, if that were the case, why didn't Hermione – or any of the other witches or wizards in the castle – know about him? Because he was an advocate for Dark Magic. If the Malfoy's went there to purchase their wands, no doubt the Black's did as well, and maybe all of the Sacred Twenty Eight… And he realized that he couldn't keep his business going with the Dark Lord absent, so he went into retirement…

"So, you goin tell us what you're thinking, Granger?" Seamus asked.

His words made her regain her surroundings, and she turned to face them. "This is all merely speculation, but what if he supported Voldemort?"

"Supported Voldemort?" Ginny echoed. "Why would you think that?"

"Why else would he be of importance?" Hermione asked. "Think about it… Maybe he supported Voldemort, and all of the Death Eaters went there to buy their wands, or even get new ones. That kept his business going for awhile, but when Voldemort disappeared, he had a reputation for supporting him, so he couldn't keep his business open. That's why he went into retirement."

"Yes, but that doesn't explain why he was on the letter Harry sent you," Dean said. "Is You-Know-Who after him now?"

"Why would he be after him?" Hermione inquired, dropping to the couch beside Ginny.

"Maybe he needs a new wand?" Dean asked in all seriousness, but Seamus smirked.

"You-Know-Who needs a new wand? Boy, that's out there, Dean. Want a piece of chocolate?"

"Thanks, Seamus," Dean took the chunk of chocolate but focused his attention back onto Hermione. "I don't know, Hermione, it's just an idea."

"Where is Ollivander?" Neville asked out of the blue. Four sets of eyes turned to look at him in almost shock, then exchanged glances between them. All this time, they had assumed he was in Diagon Alley, in his shop, as always. But, they didn't _know_ if he was or not.

Ginny's eyes met Neville's, and Seamus and Dean looked at one another. The air became uncomfortable as they realized something may have happened to their beloved wandmaker.

"What if he's not there?" Ginny whispered. "What if something happened to him?"

"We could ask the first years," Seamus suggested, but even his tone had doubt to it.

"No, if something happened to Ollivander it would've happened after the beginning of the term," Dean reasoned. "For publicity sake."

"To keep everything normal," Hermione agreed, slowly nodding her head. "Maybe that's why McGonagall and Snape were in such a rush to leave. McGonagall did say she would be out of her office for the day…"

"Okay, let's presume the worst," Seamus said, straightening his back against the couch across from Hermione and Ginny. "If something _did_ happen to Ollivander, why did it happen?"

Dean's fingers brushed his upper lip. "I told you, Seamus, maybe You-Know-Who needed a new wand."

"Yes, but other reasons, mate," Seamus said to his friend.

"What other reason could there possibly be? Why would you be after a wandmaker if you didn't need a new wand?" Dean asked. There was too much logic in that statement for it to not be true.

Hermione ran a hand through her hair, and there was silence. It was an uncomfortable silence, the kind that made your stomach turn over a few times and your nerves begin to tingle. The five friends sat in the Common Room like that for quite awhile without speaking, all just not knowing what to say.

* * *

Draco was waiting for Hermione to come back to her dorm, absently pacing. He had tried to read a few times, tried to cook without success (though he had managed to brew tea… It hadn't been good tea, but at least it was something), hell, he'd even tried curling up inside of the big red chair, but to no avail. She still wasn't back yet. Merlin, what could be taking her so long? It was almost three. Every time the clock ticked, Draco would tap his finger against the side of his leg impatiently. It was almost as if her presence this morning had soothed him, made him want to be around her so much that he was waiting like a puppy for her to come home. _Merlin's Beard… Home…_

He wanted to know what she had found out. In a small way, he wanted to help her. _Her,_ not The Order, not that pathetic excuse for a hero Potter and his sidekick. That's why he had been studying her parchments, trying to patch ideas together for her. None of which he told her, of course, but he kept them tucked away just in case. Their conversation this morning had been… Good. They hadn't argued, and Draco was still left wondering why he didn't pounce on the chance. Maybe it was his guilt. The guilt that was popping up now that he realized that she may not come back tonight. Merlin forbid she still be mad at him…

It was right then when the door opened. He stopped in his pace, and turned to see the witch sneak in, a solemn look on her face. She met his eyes, hazel on grey, and walked to her room. Before she could get there, he took long strides to intercept her. Hermione didn't want an argument, especially since they had a halfway decent conversation this morning that led to some useful information. But now, she was impatiently waiting for McGonagall's return so she could know exactly what was happening. Therefore, she was not in the mood to deal with her Slytherin companion.

"Granger, what the hell is going on?" Draco demanded.

"I don't want to talk about it," Hermione mumbled, attempting to get past him.

No, she wasn't going to get past him. He was too far invested in this now, now he needed to know.

"Tell me, Granger," he said, an octave louder. "What the hell is going on?"

"Just speculation," Hermione replied begrudgingly and once again attempted to move past him. Draco once again stepped in her way. "Draco, please…"

Damn her pleases. Damn her making him feel guilty. Damn her to hell, that stupid little… He couldn't force himself to think it, let alone say it. With a roll of his eyes, he stepped out of her way, allowing her passage to her bedroom. Hermione thanked him quietly, and brushed past him. Her shoulder brushed his, and he looked down to the floor.

"Granger," he said. Hermione stopped and looked behind her. "Gregorovitch made wands for Dark Wizards."

Hermione let out a shallow breath. So he had known more than what he led her onto believe, and it confirmed her suspicions. She turned all the way around, studying his back, seeing the ripple of his muscle clench as he breathed, knowing all too well that it was hard for him to say these things to her. But, they needed to be said.

"Did he make your father's wand?" Hermione asked bluntly.

Draco's breath caught in his throat, and fury began to flow back into his veins. "I told you never to speak about my father."

"I'm sorry," Hermione apologized, realizing that she had crossed a line that wasn't meant to be crossed and knowing all too well that he had given her all the information she was getting.

"Whatever, I shouldn't have said anything anyway," Draco muttered.

Hermione watched as he strode back into his room and shut the door. This was a step above slamming it, but she could sense that her bringing up Lucius made Draco's anger seep back into him. She surely hoped it wasn't permanent, but she found herself wondering what she would feel in his situation. What if her father and her family were the most dedicated followers to the Dark Lord? Of course, she would be repulsed, disgusted, even disowning. But, would she be if she was raised the way he was? To believe that the only true race of wizards was Pure-Blood's and that Half-Blood's, Muggle-born's, and Blood Traitor's were inferior? To have such a burden placed on her shoulders, that everyone around her knew that she was the child of one of the most fearsome Death Eaters, one of the most evil families, from both sides: The Malfoy's and the Black's. To be expected to follow in her parents footsteps, to not have a choice. It would be bloody miserable. Suddenly, she understood him a bit more.


	8. Chapter 8

_Hey guys! Thanks for all of your continual support! I'm going to try to do a chapter a day now that I'm back to work. That'll hopefully make for some fairly quick updating. I've had some speculation on the relationship between Hermione and Zac. Basically, it's showing that Draco isn't the only one interested in Hermione, and it throws her for a loop. Personally, I love writing Zac. He's such a persistent, witty, and fun character. And there will be some confrontation of him and Draco later on, like way later on. If you have any suggestions, please feel free to comment and as always, review me!_

Chapter 8: The Last Hope

The moment McGonagall sent for her, Hermione was out of her dorm faster than Draco's eyes could blink. He watched her leave with intensity, dying to be a part of whatever was going on outside that door. She needed to leave though, and for some reason, he understood that. Muscles aching from sitting against his headboard all night, Draco pushed himself out of bed, convincing himself that now was as good of time as any to take a shower.

Not making good use of his alone time, Draco walked slowly to the shower, taking in the wind rushing against the windows. He peeked out: the sky was growing a nasty shade of grey, and he could see the trees and bushes blowing below him. A part of him wished he were out there, patrolling the grounds, but then he realized it would've been much too cold for that, and headed back to the shower.

Aimlessly lost in his own thoughts, he turned the water and let it warm for awhile before undressing himself. The warm mist from the tub lingered in the air, soothing him. But, the cool air from outside the dorm made his skin tickle, and for some reason, he had always enjoyed goosebumps on his skin. He left the bathroom door open. Hell, he was alone. Maybe a bath was in order…

Climbing into the shower carelessly, Draco's right foot slipped against the slippery bottom of the tub. With a shocked breath, he realized he was going down, and hit his head on the faucet. Stars oversaw his eyelids, and a heavy black was coming onto him before he realized that he was going under… Where was Hermione… He tried to part his lips, tried to call out for help… But, before he could form a thought, a deep black sleep overtook him, and the last thing he remembered was how good the warm water felt against his skin.

* * *

Meanwhile, Hermione found Neville and Ginny in the fourth floor corridor, talking about a class assignment. Hermione grabbed both of them by their shoulders and began to push them to McGonagall's office, explaining on the way. The trio broke into a run halfway there, only to run into Seamus and Parvati sitting on a bench, Seamus giving her a look that any woman would dissolve over.

"Seamus!" Ginny reached out and grabbed the shoulder of his sweater, pulling him with them. Seamus quickly apologized to Parvati, and joined his friends in their running through the castle. "Where's Dean?"

"With Shacklebolt," replied Seamus, out of breath. "This better be bloody worth it, Hermione –"

"Shut up, Seamus!" Neville barked, only to get a cold stare from him.

As they rounded the corner into McGonagall's office, they saw that Snape was there, along with Remus Lupin. There wasn't time for greetings, however, as the air was as cold and tense as it was outside the castle walls. The friends skidded to a halt, taking in the looks on their elders' faces. Hermione felt her stomach drop subterranean, and she knew what Snape said, almost before he had opened his lips.

"Ollivander is missing."

Ginny's shoulders hunched, and a little moan escaped her lips. Seamus and Neville exchanged a glance, and Seamus slowly put his arm around her shoulders.

"We believe that the Dark Lord is after a new wand," Lupin explained, his eyes taunt. "Do any of you have any idea why?"

Hermione didn't think it was meant to be an accusation, but she took it as one none-the-less. "No, but we had come to the same conclusion."

"Do you know who Gregorovitch was?" Lupin asked, now sitting himself halfway on McGonagall's desk.

"He was a wandmaker," Neville replied uncertainly.

"Yes, but he was also an advocate for Dark Magic," McGonagall said. Hermione should've been impressed by herself that she had come to the conclusion long before, but it diminished when she realized that she had known because of Draco. McGonagall's fingers came to brush the bridge of her nose. "Which means that Voldemort is seeking an army."

"An army?" Seamus asked. His voice was slightly open, and his face aghast. "Are there really that many people out there that would follow him?"

Snape turned his attention towards Seamus now. "Mr. Finnigan, during the first Wizarding War, it would do you well to remember how many species the Dark Lord had siding with him."

"Severus is right," Lupin nodded in agreement. "The first time, Voldemort had an array of creatures at his will: giants, spiders, centaurs, dementors… They would undoubtedly follow him into battle again."

"Okay, so how do we try to stop them?" Neville asked. His tone was courageous, and for that Lupin could only smile.

"Right now, there's not much we can do, Neville," he replied. "Our main priority is finding out why Voldemort needs a new wand, and finding Ollivander. Until then, there's not much we can go on. I've sent word to Harry and Ron to see if they can give us any more information, but that's unlikely in case their owls are intercepted. I want you four to work on scenarios, anything that could possibly help us. Ginny, Hermione, will you stay please? Seamus and Neville, you are dismissed."

For a moment, the boys hesitated, but under the stern gaze of the three Order members in front of them, they sighed and left the office. Hermione watched carefully as McGonagall once again held the bridge of her nose, and Snape stepped a tad closer.

"Is there anything you two want to say to Harry and Ron?" Lupin asked. "I think we've found a way to contact them without being intercepted by Voldemort."

Ginny's face lit up, and Hermione's stomach tumbled with delight.

"Will you tell Harry I miss him?" Ginny asked Lupin. Lupin nodded with a small chuckle. "Also, tell him to watch out for Ron and that although he's a downright git for leaving, I still love him."

"Alright, and you, Hermione?"

Hermione thought for a moment. "Tell them that I miss them, and we're trying to help them as best we can."

"I will pass the message along," Lupin nodded. "Is there anything else that you needed to say to the girls, Severus? Minerva? Very well then, off you go."

When Hermione and Ginny were safely out of earshot, Lupin turned to Severus with a look that only the two men could understand. McGonagall turned to face them, her lips in a curt, straight line. Lupin ran his hand over his face, feeling the stubbly pricks of hair on his chin and neck, and then through his messy brown hair.

"Is he turning, Minvera?" asked Lupin.

"From what Miss Granger has told me, he is beginning to let his guard down. That doesn't mean he's turning, Remus. Blood is always thicker than water," she answered. "If the Ministry falls, we will have to move him. He won't be safe here."

"I agree," sighed Lupin. "That boy may be our only hope. Do you plan to send him to me, Minerva?"

McGonagall's eyes closed momentarily. "Yes, Remus. If Miss Granger didn't turn him by then, maybe his friends will."

"It won't be long before the Dark Lord makes his move," Snape told them. "You must be ready for him at moment's notice."

"I'll prepare a Portkey," Lupin agreed. "Don't give me that look, Severus. We will keep him safe."

"Where will Miss Granger go if such an incident is to occur?" Snape asked.

"Where do you think, Severus?" Lupin chuckled. "She'll go after Harry and Ron."

* * *

When Hermione returned to her dorm, it was nearing nine o'clock. Her heart was racing with happiness and sadness at the same time, and she didn't know how to react. Things were becoming much worse on the outside, and she knew that before long, her solitude would be over and war would be on the horizon. With a sigh, she opened the door to her dorm, and heard the water from the shower going. Relieved, Hermione walked further into the dorm, and saw a trail of water heading out of the bathroom. Curiously, she followed it, seeing the bathroom door open. Odd… She continued to follow it, seeing the shower curtain hanging loosely in the water, and an arm hanging out the side of the bathtub. It was overflowing with water. Hermione waited at the door for a few moments.

"Draco?" she asked, but there wasn't a reply. The arm didn't even flinch. That's when she panicked.

Hermione flung herself towards the tub, one hand pulling back the shower curtain, and the other grasping onto Draco's cheeks. He was floating in the water, a peaceful expression on his face. For a moment, Hermione could've guessed that he was sleeping until realization came over her. He had fallen: that's why the shower curtain had wrapped around him. Panic hit her abdomen like a sword: he looked ghastly, almost dead. His ivory skin was reflected in the water, but the loss of color in his face and lips gave it away.

"Oh my God," she whispered. "Draco, Draco!"

Hermione quickly grabbed her wand. She had to get him out of the water. She released with a shaky breath that this had been an accident, a pure accident, but what if she hadn't come in? Merlin, she didn't want to think of that. Raising her wand, she quickly enchanted him to levitate, a foul sensation swooping over her when his arms and legs dangled from his body. Quickly, she moved him to his bed, where her first instinct, as a Muggle, was to give CPR.

"Shit," she murmured, fumbling with her fingers, interlocking them over his heart. She pressed down, _one two three_ , and then without hesitation, touched her lips to his, breathing into him, filling his lungs with precious air. Never once did she think about what she was doing, just that it was necessary. He couldn't die, absolutely not. She pulled herself back: he was warm… So incredibly warm… And his lips… So soft…

It took her a few times, and by the third, hope was beginning to fade, but when she drew her lips, she saw his lungs constrict, and then darted away as he began to cough up water. Relief rushed through her: he was alive! Smiling like a child on their birthday, Hermione couldn't help but wrap her arms around his neck and squeeze him.

"Bloody hell, Granger, get off of me!" he sputtered, still choking on warm water.

Yes, he was certainly alive. Hermione released him, a grin upon her lips. Draco's grey eyes were still wide with bewilderment and shock, and his breaths were ragged and unsteady, just like both their hearts. Their gazes met, and Draco realized what had just happened. Looking down at his naked body, he pulled the blankets tighter around his chest.

"You need to rest," Hermione said, her anxiety on how he would react now creeping through her. "I don't know how long you were out."

Draco still hadn't completely focused, and he fell back to the pillows on his bed, letting the darkness overtake him again. Hermione knew this time that his body just needed to recover, but in her worry for him, she sat on the bed for a good hour just staring at him.

Never in her almost seven years of knowing Draco Malfoy had she ever seen him so peaceful. There wasn't any hint of crude ignorance, nor arrogance, or unhappiness in his features. Dare Hermione say it, but he almost looked… Normal. She reached out a hand and brushed his snow-white hair to the side and ran it over his cheek. He was warm. She allowed herself to run her fingertips over his lips and to the other side of his face, where she just continued to stroke him. A few times, she heard him groan or sigh, but she never pulled away. Though the past fifteen minutes had felt like just a few seconds, Hermione knew that he was aware that she had saved his life, even if it was only by a freak accident. Something, maybe it was her womanly instinct or just that she found herself caring more and more about her Slytherin roommate, told her to stay with him, just in case he stopped breathing again.

She slipped off his bed, and grabbed the chair from across the room by his dresser. When she curled up in it, she realized that she had kissed him. Her gut began to ache again, but this time it was from embarrassment and anxiety. She kissed him and brought him back to life: her air was in his lungs. His lips were so warm, so inviting… With a sigh, Hermione buried herself with a blanket. This would inevitably change things. The question was… How?

* * *

It was early when Hermione awoke to the wind howling against Draco's bedroom window. She clenched her eyes shut in annoyance: she was getting really sick of all this wind. Though, she peeked her head up to check the time: it was almost seven thirty. Somehow, she had managed to sleep all the way through the night on this chair, something she was really quite impressed at.

Hermione turned to see Draco on his bed, the covers pooled around his waist, and a relaxed look on his face. She could hardly remember the details of what had happened last night, just that she had saved him, and he had yelled for her to get off of him. And that she had kissed him. Thinking about it made her feel slightly nauseous. But, she found herself staring at his peaceful form for quite sometime before he began to wake up.

Really, she didn't want him to wake up. She wanted to run as far away as she could – which meant to her room – and avoid him waking up altogether. Draco's grey eyes blinked a few times until they were fulling open. Just as Hermione was about to jump out of the chair and run for her room, their eyes locked on one another. All she saw in them was a softness she had never seen before. Maybe it was a way of him saying thank you, or maybe he wasn't aware enough to put enough rage into his actions. Whatever the case was, Hermione found herself smiling.

"What are you smiling about, Granger?" Draco demanded, pulling himself up to lean against his headboard. His voice startled her, and Hermione blinked a few times so she was fully conscious.

"Nothing. How are you feeling?"

"How do you think? Shitty," Draco replied, rubbing the back of his head.

Hermione studied the wizard: his upper chest was tense, and she found herself glad that her handprints from last night had faded because his ivory skin was reminding her of soft vanilla. He looked anywhere but her eyes, purposefully avoiding them. Maybe that would mean they could avoid talking about what had happened. Even if it was an accident, Draco didn't want to be reminded of it. Or that she had saved him.

And now, for some reason, she was leaning towards him, her hazel eyes wide. Merlin, could she just back off and give him some space? His head felt like it had been hit by a Bludger, and his body was tense and sore. But, her look of genuine concern made him feel a tad better, but then it was overtaken by his usual realizations of how humiliating it was to have a Gryffindor express concern for a Slytherin. It was almost too much to handle, and it made his head throb even more.

"Where does it hurt?"

"Everywhere," he muttered, running his hands through his blonde hair. He felt bloody dramatic, telling her everywhere hurt and acting like a stupid little Hufflepuff, admitting to his pain. "Damn it."

"It wasn't your fault; you fell and that's absolutely normal—"

"I know that, Granger, I've fallen before," he replied harshly.

Her hazel eyes widened at the bitterness of his words, and he couldn't help but feel the guilt rise back up into his stomach again. Why did she have to do that? Make him feel this way? After all, he felt bloody embarrassed. She had come back to him floating unconscious in a bathtub. Although Draco knew there wasn't anything he could've done, he still felt degraded. He wanted her to leave, to get as far away from him as possible, and for a moment, all he wanted to do was break everything in this room. Maybe that would help him ease the pain, but more so, the guilt.

"You didn't have to help me, Granger," he muttered, his grey eyes focusing as far away from the witch as possible.

"I did, though, Malfoy! If I hadn't, if I had just been a moment longer, you would have died," Hermione snapped back. This time, the bitterness of her words made him flinch.

"Should've just let me," he retorted, rubbing his temples again. "It would be better than being stuck here anyway." Hermione huffed at his words, disgusted at his un-appreciation of what she had done. Then again, should she have been surprised?

"Why would I wish for anyone to die?" she asked quietly.

Draco's grey eyes rose to met hazel ones. "You hate me, Granger. I am your enemy, remember?"

"I don't think that's true," Hermione insisted. Draco raised an eyebrow.

"What do you mean?" he demanded, more to himself than to her.

"I just don't think that's true," she replied, this time a little forcefully. Draco spied a challenge with her, and even though his head was throbbing, he wanted it… needed it… needed to see that fire in her eyes.

"No, let me set this straight for you since last night's incident obviously clouded your vision more than mine," Draco hissed. Hermione straightened herself, her eyes almost in narrow slights. "I am a Death Eater. You are a member of the Order. We are enemies."

"Draco, you are not a Death –" Hermione stopped speaking when Draco pulled his left arm from beneath the sheets. Her breath caught in her chest, and all she wanted to do was look away, but she couldn't. Horrible memories came back to her: the World Cup, Voldemort in the Department of Mysteries, above the Astronomy Tower… Hermione shuddered, and looked up at Draco's eyes: cold and relentess.

"I am! It is in my blood!" he yelled, flexing his forearm where it had been burned into his skin.

Hermoine's shoulder sagged and she felt tears forming in her eyes, threatening to sting her cheeks. "That's your family, Draco, not you –"

"Piss off, Granger, don't act like you know anything about –"

"Shut up."

"Excuse me? What the hell are you doing?" he barked, as Hermione moved closer. Something had peaked her interest about the inky carving on his skin. He observed her warily as she moved closer to him, and before he knew it, she was beside him on his bed. Her face was dangerously close to his forearm, and the guilt came back, chasing the anger away.

No… He didn't want her to see it, let alone examine it. Merlin's Beard, what had possessed him to show her? Obviously it had triggered horrible memories, and it did for him too. Most of the time he was able to ignore it, and that was good enough for him, but why in the world did he just do that… A part of him wanted to apologize, to cover it again, but Hermione was too busy observing his emblem to do that. Still wary of her actions, he felt her soft fingertips grasp the skin around his forearm. A soft breath made his stomach tighten, and all he wanted to do was look away. He didn't want to witness her disgust at him, at his choices. But, Draco couldn't. And Merlin only knew why.

"Why are you looking at it?" he whispered.

Hermione was rather intrigued by the Mark. She had seen it multiple times, each time with a distinct memory that caused her anguish, but never before on a person and seeing it on someone was an entirely different concept. Her soft fingertips brushed along the outside lines of it, and she swore she saw the tail of the snake twitch.

"I've just… never seen it on a person before," she answered lamely.

"Doesn't make for a very good body decoration," Draco replied and tried to pull his arm away but found herself stuck in her grip. "Bloody hell, stop looking at it, Granger!"

"Stop," she murmured softly as she trailed her fingertips over the Mark. "Does it hurt?"

"No."

"Then why did you flinch?"

Draco didn't know how to answer her question, his mouth locked in bewilderment. He had flinched because for a moment, it felt as though her light and purity passed over the evil the Mark represented and blew it into a million pieces. He felt bits of resentment leave his body, his mind, and his heart. Little did she know that when he was branded, it was only out of sheer anger to remove his father from prison. He never wanted too, never would have, if the circumstances weren't what they were. Even in his attempt to win back his father's respect and love, nothing had come of it. He had been set up, used, thrown into hiding, and now his family thought he was dead. Sleepless nights because of the nightmares, feeling disgusted with himself, and now… this.

"Your fingers were cold," he murmured bleakly.

"Your family doesn't define you –"

"Shut up, Granger, I'm not in the mood for a lecture –"

"No, listen," she insisted, and Draco clamped his mouth shut. "Your family doesn't define you. You may have a Dark Mark, and so do members of your family, but you are a person, and you are able to make your own choices."

"I will always be a Malfoy," Draco retorted, trying to find bitterness, but couldn't. "I wouldn't expect you to understand."

Hermione let his arm go, and immediately, he found himself missing her warm and gentle touch. Their eyes met, and Draco saw a very understanding look in her eyes. Forcing himself to look away, he sighed and put his arm under the blankets again, half in disgust for himself, and half because he couldn't bare her to look at it anymore.

"You're right, I couldn't possibly understand. But, I do understand being inferior." Her words hit him like a jinx to the chest, almost knocking the wind out of him. "Maybe we're not so different."

Draco looked down at the covers. He couldn't bring himself to say anything, so he just lamely sat while she looked at him. "Ollivander is missing."

"What?" Draco asked, his head raising. "Why?"

"We think that… Voldemort is trying to find a new wand," Hermione answered, studying his face. She knew that he knew more than what he was saying, and she could tell by the look on his face.

"Why would he need a new wand? Do you know how bloody stupid that sounds?" Draco asked with raised eyebrows.

"Yes, but it's a good place to start," Hermione shrugged. Draco began to damn all the things around him, especially himself for wanting to help her.

"Merlin's Beard, Granger," Draco muttered. "Do you know fucking dangerous he would be if he got a new wand?"

"Yes, that's why we must stop him."

Hermione hoped her words nudged him in the right places so he would tell her what he knew, but he didn't. But, she noticed that he too, in that moment, was afraid of Voldemort just as much as she was. That in itself spoke in huge amounts.

She pushed herself off of his bed, and stole a glance behind her before she closed the door. It made a shiver shoot straight up his spine. Draco leaned back in his bed, his head hitting the soft pillows, and he took a deep breath. Fuck this, fuck her, fuck his feelings, fuck her feelings… This was too much. Now, he was even indebted to her because she saved his life. Fuck… So, that's how the morning was going to go.

* * *

That afternoon, Hermione was told by McGonagall that she and Zac were able to go to Hogsmead that weekend in case they needed anything from the village. She also told the pair to begin planning for the Yule Ball, as the whole goal was to keep spirits high. Zac looked overjoyed at the duties, but Hermione was less than amused. She had bigger issues to worry about than planning a stupid Ball or going to Hogsmead… though, the change of scenery may be nice. She found herself wondering about what Draco would do if she was away when Zac began to walk in pace next to her.

"You look like you have a lot on your mind," he commented. If Zacharias Smith was anything, it certainly wasn't shy. "You've been working so hard, Hermione, all of the D.A. lessons, plus classes, plus trying to help Harry and Ron… I think you need a break."

 _A break?_ That was highly out of the question.

"I don't have time for breaks," Hermione mumbled.

"Hermione," Zac insisted, and stopped walking. He side-stepped her so he was in front of her, his radiant blue eyes gleaming. Hermione sighed, staring up at him. She realized he had her pinned from all sides, but was still trying to desperately find a way around his clutches. "I know you're going to try to get out of going to Hogsmead, but I must insist you go. If anyone in this castle deserves a little time away, it's you."

"Thank you, Zac, that's very kind of you –"

"Hermione, I mean it," he said sternly. "You're always so focused on doing everything for everyone else, like making sure that the third floor girls lavatory is clean after that damn pipe bursts all the time. Or making sure Ginny is doing okay with being away from Harry. Or making sure everyone is ready to fight in case the worst happens. Hermione, you are one of the bravest, smartest, and beautiful women I know. Please."

Hermione didn't know what to say. Suddenly, she was second-guessing Dean and Seamus' comments about how all Zac wanted was to get into her pants. The Head Boy seemed genuinely concerned for her well-being, and it wasn't a feeling she had since Harry and Ron had left months ago. Offering Zac a small smile, she realized that maybe she did need a break.

"Okay, fine," she agreed. "But, just this once."

"Perfect, when should I come get you?" Zac asked, almost too anxiously.

" _I_ will meet _you_ in the Great Hall on Saturday," Hermione replied.

"Great! Would you like me to walk you back to your dorm?"

"No, that's okay. I'm going to go spend some time with Ginny," Hermione said. "Thank you… for making me realize that it's okay too…"

"Have a life?" Zac chuckled. "No problem. You won't regret it, trust me."

Hermione sighed sadly as Zac walked down the hallway. He did express genuine interest in her. Though she wasn't the best looking witch in her year, she knew she had somewhat of sex appeal, or at least Viktor Krum and Cormack thought so. Zac also accepted her for who she was, and what she was… He was also smart, quirky, and witty, with a subtle charm that only Zac could possess. As she stared down the hall at him, a familiar feeling of anxiety popped up in her tummy. Things had just gotten a lot more complicated.


	9. Chapter 9

_Good evening everyone! I've had a request for more Ginny, and I'll try to add her in as much as possible. And I absolutely adore writing Zac, he is seriously the most fun character I've ever written. He also gives me this Ed Sheeran feel. Lupin said last chapter that Malfoy was their last hope. Remember, this entire time, the Order is trying to turn Draco to their side, using Hermione, because he is an invaluable asset. These people are our "good guys", yet it goes to show that even the "good guys" have their own agendas. This is strictly non-canon until they leave Hogwarts, so if you have any suggestions on scenes, let me know. I would love direction. As always, REVIEW!_

Chapter Nine: Hot Chocolate

Neville quickly cast a shield charm to block Ginny's jinx, making the purple burst of light retract and blast forcefully into the floor. Hermione noticed that he was becoming rather skilled at Shielding Charms, and took a moment to congratulate him before moving on to watch some of the younger members of the D.A. Before she knew it, Hermione was lost in her own thoughts, carefully sitting on the edge of the desk. She kept replaying Zac's advances in her head, thinking how foolish she was to agree to leave the castle tomorrow with him. Nothing good would come out of it except possibly leading him on… Her mind turned to Draco, and she wondered how he would take the news of her being out of the castle for the day. Draco…

Something had changed between them, and it was unavoidable. The way he had looked when she found him, almost dead yet still breathing, with an eternal look of peace on his face, was eerily beautiful. How she had cared so much about his well-being. And that he knew a lot more about Voldemort than what he made her believe.

"Hermione, you okay?" Ginny asked. Hermione didn't even see the redhead come up beside her. "You look like you're far away from here."

Hermione stiffened a small sigh. "I'd like to be."

"Right now, I think we all would. What's on your mind?"

Hermione turned to look at Ginny, chewing on her bottom lip anxiously. She never really realized how beautiful Ginny was: with her creamy skin and fiery hair. She was girly, sensitive, and cared very much about her appearance and what she wore. Even now, she was in tight jeans, with her dark grey Gryffindor sweater on. Her hair was in a long braid down her right side, and there was a tint of extenuating makeup on her eyelids. She was everything that Hermione wasn't, aside from being a very talented and intelligent witch.

"How do I become… beautiful?" Hermione asked softly.

Ginny's lips turned upwards. "Hermione, you are one of the most beautiful women I know."

"No, what do you do to make yourself look, well, pretty?" Hermione never felt more self-conscious in her life.

"Oh, well, I put on a little makeup and kind of just pick out what I want to wear. Why?" Ginny inquired.

"I'm going to Hogsmead tomorrow, and I just want to look… normal," Hermione sighed. Truthfully, that wasn't the reason. A part of her wanted to see how Draco would react if she looked like every other girl who walked the halls of Hogwarts instead of being plain, ordinary.

"Well, if you want, you can come back up to my dorm after practice. It could be fun, giving you a little makeover," Ginny chuckled, and her eyes gleamed with excitement.

"Sure," Hermione returned her smile with enthusiasm.

"Hermione! Duck!" Dean called, and without hesitation, Hermione's head dropped just in time to miss a jinx from Zac. When Hermione turned to look at him, his baby blues were wide with shock and worry and he raced up to her, although Hermione deemed it unnecessary.

"I am so sorry, I wasn't paying attention –"

Hermione saw Seamus eyeing them and titling his head slightly over Zac's shoulder. With a sigh, Hermione slid off the desk and shook her head.

"It's okay, Zac, just watch where you're aiming your jinxes," she said absently. Her eyes wandered to Corner, who shot a jinx at Luna. Luna carefully reflected it and smiled softly at her antics.

"Yeah," Zac smiled. Hermione looked at up him, seeing his lips curve. She found that she liked it when she smiled, and realized with a feeling of uncertainty that maybe Zac was growing on her. "Do you want to give it a go?"

"I don't know, Zac…" Hermione murmured, not wanting to embarrass him in front of the D.A. members for the second time.

"Don't be a prude, Hermione," Ginny nudged her in the rubs. "Go on."

Hermione shot a glance at Ginny of her insistence, but followed Zac out onto the floor none-the-less. She realized that everyone around her had a motto somewhere along the lines of: "Live a little", "Enjoy life!", or "Live life to the fullest!" So, why couldn't she? The spells stopped flying as Zac led the way to the center, the group expanding onto two sides.

"Couldn't wait to get your ass kicked again, Smith?" Seamus called.

"Shut up, Seamus," Smith replied. Hermione took her place in front of Zac on the opposite end of the room. "Are you ready, Hermione?"

Seamus looked to Corner and held up a Knut with a twinkle in his eyes.

"Nope, I'm done betting," Corner replied hastily.

"Whatever you say, Corner," Seamus shrugged and slipped the Knut back into his pocket.

"Ugh, fine. Two on Smith," Corner mumbled. Seamus smiled to himself: what a git.

Hermione steadied her wand, and watched as Zac went to make his move. The moment his arm twitched, she sent a body-binding curse to him. He deflected it half way to him, sending it into the left wall, scorching a little bit off. He locked her eyes, trying to read her next move. Hermione swore Zac moved first, or maybe it was her, but spells jumped from their wands in midair to collide halfway between them. It wasn't like Hermione had ever dueled before, but this was different. There was a bit of a struggle to keep her spell from fluctuating. Gritting her teeth, she put more force into it, only to have it reciprocated by Zac. He wasn't letting down. She could feel the heat from the spells beginning to crawl up her wrist until the trance broke.

Gasping for breath, Hermione steadied herself with her hands on her knees. She was still clutching her wand tightly at her side. With a half glance up, she noticed that Zac too was breathless and trying to regain composure. She took this opportunity and flicked her wand, sending a hex towards him that caught him in the stomach and he fell over backwards. The room once again erupted into cheers as Hermione steadied herself. Corner shamefully put two Knuts into Seamus' outstretched hand and crossed his arms in disappointment.

"You're really got to stop betting, mate," Seamus told him. Corner just scowled.

Zac got to his feet and pulled his sweater down, but the look on his face said he had enjoyed their duel. In a way, Hermione did too. After a few more duels between the students, Hermione dismissed them and began to make her way to the Gryffindor dorms with Ginny. Second thoughts about this makeover where already racing through her head, but she allowed herself to continue on with it.

Once they were in Ginny's dorm, Hermione found herself facing a mirror. She looked at herself in the mirror: messy hair, big hazel eyes, creamy skin with a hint of freckles, and just overall… plain. Ginny began to run Hermione's hair through a brush, and then applying a gel to it.

"Zac fancies you, you know," Ginny said absently as she applied more gel to Hermione's hair.

"I know," Hermione sighed.

"He's handsome," Ginny offered, scrunching Hermione's hair into loose curls. "Very handsome."

"He is," came her meek reply. "He's got charm too."

"Oh, yes," Ginny giggled. "He reminds me of Cormack, but not so arrogant."

Hermione couldn't help but smile. "Zac is anything but."

Ginny spun her around to begin putting some light makeup on her face. "Are you going on a date with him?"

Hermione's eyes snapped open, but Ginny quickly put the makeup brush over her eyelids again. "We're going to Hogsmead, I told you that."

"You didn't say you were going with him."

"It's not a date," Hermione said firmly. "We're just going as Heads."

"Then why did you want to get all dolled up? I know it's not just because you want to look normal, Hermione," Ginny said, now rooting through her closet for something for Hermione to wear.

"I just… want to look like a girl for once," Hermione admitted. Ginny smirked to herself and threw a pair of jeans, a white shirt, and a grey Gryffindor cardigan over to her. Hermione caught them in her lap, and proceeded to change. "I'm always in my school outfit, and I just never really take the time to look halfway decent anymore."

"Oh, Hermione," cooed Ginny as Hermione turned around.

Hermione looked at herself in the mirror. For the first time in her life, she felt as if she walked down the hallway, she would actually blend in with the girls. The dark jeans were tight and form fitting, hugging her hips tightly. The white shirt showed just enough cleavage to make the mind wonder, and she could see the outline of her light pink bra straps underneath. The cardigan made the outfit: draping around her back and to her hips like a warm blanket. Her hair was in loose curls, down to above her bust. Her hazel eyes were accented by a soft green and brown, making them pop.

"Wow, Ginny," Hermione said softly. "I never knew I could look so… astounding."

"Keep the clothes," Ginny shrugged and collapsed on her bed. "Also, you might want to go find Zac. I would love to know what his reaction is."

But, Hermione didn't go to find Zac. She went straight back to her dorm.

* * *

Draco heard her come in as usual, but she was early. It was only a quarter to eleven, so even by her standards, she arrived earlier than usual. He had been reading about Horcruxes and how you have to rip your soul in order to make one. The thought alone had been excruciating, and Hermione had said that there was more than one Horcrux out there… It answered a lot of questions as to why Voldemort was the way he was in Draco's mind. Before Draco looked up, he caught sense of a nervous aura, and when he did look up, his mouth went slightly slack.

Never before had he seen Hermione so feminine. She looked different, but in a good way. Her curls were tamed (thank Merlin), her jeans were a nice fit, showing off her round assets, and her eyes were defined more than normal. Draco quietly closed his book and rose to his feet as he stared at the witch. Hermione didn't say a word, just let him approach her quietly. Even though she wasn't dressed proactively, something about her ensemble made Draco's breath catch. It was so incredibly not her.

"You're back early."

"Yes, I wanted to ask you some questions."

Draco raised an eyebrow. The nerve to rile her up was strong now; something about her coming into their sanctuary had provoked him. "Questions? And give me one good reasons why I should answer any of your bloody questions."

"Stop being so childish," she brushed past him and sank down on her chair, pulling her legs into her body and staring at him. "Tomorrow, I'm going to Hogsmead –"

"You're leaving?" Draco asked, now slightly infuriated. "Why are you _leaving_?"

Hermione took a breath to steady herself. She was aiming to keep this conversation as calm as possible, but she had a feeling he would react this way. "I need to get some things for the school, and for you, if you wanted anything."

"I don't need anything from you, Granger," he huffed, ignoring her blissful tone.

"Draco, you live here too, and if there's anything I can get to make you more comfortable –"

"Since when have you bloody cared about if I'm comfortable or not?" Draco retorted, his lips now inched into a thin line. He liked it better when she wasn't talking.

 _For a long time now_ … Hermione wondered how his pride hadn't taken such a beating yet. She forced herself not to care about that Slytherin and Malfoy pride, and continued to stare at him until he looked away under the pressure of her gaze.

"Is there anything you want?" she asked sternly.

"Why are you doing this?" he replied, his eyes burning holes into the floor. Was it because she felt sorry for him now? Or because she had saved his life? Or maybe, just maybe, she was beginning to have a soft spot for him like he was beginning to have for her.

"Because maybe if you have some things that make you feel comfortable, you'd be a little less… arrogant," Hermione grinned. Draco scowled at that grin.

"Granger, nothing will make me comfortable here," he grumbled.

"Malfoy –" Her tone was curt and warning.

"Fucking fine," Draco dropped himself onto the couch and looked around the dorm. "I am getting rather sick of that tea you have in the cabinet. Get something different. Also, some chocolate from HoneyDukes. And maybe some shower gel that smells like something other than fucking flowers."

Hermione couldn't help but chuckle. Draco saw this, and almost felt the upside of his lips turn, but quickly, he stopped the action and clasped his fingers together.

"I like flowers," Hermione murmured thoughtfully. "What scents do you like?"

"What the hell kind of question is that?" Draco asked with his eyebrows lowered in confusion.

"Just a question, Draco," she answered, now looking straight into his eyes. Merlin's Beard… it was like an entirely new Hermione Granger was staring at him. He felt a twinge in his chest, a twinge that almost made him sick because he knew after countless rendezvous with women what it meant.

"A bloody stupid one. Pick me up something new to read too. Your books are starting to get repetitive," he muttered with distaste.

"What would you like to read?"

Draco rolled his eyes. "None of your Muggle shit, Granger. I want to actually keep my brain cells, not loose them."

"Alright, challenging books it is," she said, and her tone was lighter. Draco wondered vaguely how he could've overlooked such a wonderful tone…

"That's all," Draco leaned back against the couch. "Nothing else you could get me would make this place ease loosing my sanity."

"It could be worse," Hermione shrugged and buried the side of her face into the chair. She peeked out at her Slytherin companion who had rolled his grey eyes the other direction of her. He knew that she was referring to the events of earlier in the week when she had saved his life. Merlin's Beard… Would she ever let him live that down?

"Don't get your hopes up, Granger," he muttered and stood up. Hermione watched as his lean body made its way over to the kitchen, where he opened the cupboards and rooted around in them. He easily reached where Hermione could not and she made a mental note of that as he pulled down a blue container filled with hot chocolate.

Draco knew how to make hot chocolate. Perhaps it was the only thing he knew how to make without magic. His mother insisted on boiling water and adding the chocolate and marshmallows because it "tasted better that way." He found that he missed her more than usual as he placed a green mug filled with water on the oven, allowing it to come to a boil. Lost in thought, he remembered when he was a boy and how Narcissa would make the drink every time he was scared. It could've been for the stupidest reasons: from when he was about to take a big exam, or thunder struck in the sky. Most recently, it had been the night before he was set to kill Albus Dumbledore.

" _You don't have to kill him, Draco."_

" _He'll kill you and me if I don't, Mum."_

Draco didn't realize that the cup had been to a full boil for well over a minute before he removed it from the stove, feeling a rush of comforting warmth through his palms. He added the chocolate and stirred it around, finding he had made more than enough for two people. Not really considering what he was doing, he brought down a red mug and poured excess hot chocolate into it. Still lost in thoughts of his mother, Draco walked to Hermione, set the mug on the table beside her, and sat down on the couch.

"I thought you said you couldn't cook without magic," Hermione whispered, taking the cup in her hands, surprised at Draco's gesture.

"I can't," he replied simply and took a sip of the drink. A splash of hot comfort ran through his insides, warming them, and creating a simple barrier, shielding anything from the outside from coming inside.

"Then how did you know how to make this?"

"My mum," replied Draco softly. Hermione shifted so she could see his face, and his grey eyes seemed to wander to places farther than this dorm, even farther than Hogwarts.

"Your mother never striked me as the type to make things the Muggle-way," Hermione knew she was treading on thin water with how protective Draco was over comments about his father, but when he didn't react with anger, she knew it hadn't upset him.

"This was the only thing she ever made like Muggles do," Draco said and took another sip.

Hermione found her curiosity peaking once more. "What is your mother like?"

Draco's eyes narrowed. "Why the hell do you want to know? I'm sure you've already made your assumptions about her."

Hermione drew back, the mug clasped in her hands. She knew that she had hit his sensitive spot where his parents were concerned, and he wasn't completely wrong about his statement. Hermione had made her assumptions about her, thinking she was just like his father: evil. But, the more that Draco defended his parents, the more Hermione realized that she could've just as well been wrong.

"I was just wondering, Draco."

"Yeah, well, you just wonder a lot," he grumbled, clutching his mug so hard he was afraid the glass may have shattered. But, when he thought of Narcissa, his insides became warm again and he felt the world slowly go away. "She's… gentle."

"Gentle?" Hermione asked, surprised he was relieving any information about his mother to her.

"Yes, are you fucking deaf, Granger?" he spat, looking up at her with his stormy grey eyes. "My mother is the gentlest person I know."

"How so?"

Draco found himself lost in memories of her that made his lips threaten to smile. "There was a time where I had failed a test in Herbology, and my father had thrown a fit because of it. He wanted me to excel in every subject."

"If I remember right, you were second to me in academics," Hermione supplied.

"I was supposed to be first," Draco said sharply, as if it was her fault that he had failed to achieve the top markings for their six years together in school. "Anyway, he threw his fit and Mum comes up to me and tells me that I did the best I could and she'd never been more proud."

Hermione smiled into her arm as she watched Draco recount his memories.

"There was another time where I came home late, and she was waiting up for me in the drawing room. She probably didn't want me to know, but I found her there, passed out in a chair with our cat next to her… I covered her up with a blanket, and went to bed," he told her. Hermione could tell his tone was softening, almost even into a tone of normal conversation, without his normal sharpness or arrogance.

"She sounds like a wonderful mother," Hermione said softly.

"She is," Draco said, looking into his hot chocolate.

"You miss her," Hermione whispered.

"Her more than my father," Draco replied hesitantly. Hermione knew the consequences of bringing up his father, so she strayed around the subject of Lucius.

"I hope you get to see your mother again," Hermione told him and took a sip of her hot chocolate. "She taught you how to make very good hot chocolate."

"Yeah," Draco murmured, still running his fingers over the mug.

He didn't know why he had just told her his feelings about missing his mother or how easily it came for him to tell her stories of his past. For those few minutes, Draco felt light, airy, and maybe even, happy. He hadn't meant for it to happen, but certainly wasn't opposed to it. He still felt that odd sensation for the rest of the night when he looked at Hermione, almost as though he wanted too – needed too – pursue her. But, with pursuit came hurt. And as always, after so long he was reminded that he shouldn't have been attracted to her anyways. After all… she was a Mudblood.

* * *

Draco didn't even notice that he fallen asleep on the couch, or that Hermione had fallen asleep on her chair. It wasn't until he arose the next morning with a nasty cramp in his neck that he realized he hadn't slept in his bed. Groaning, he rubbed the back of his neck as he tried to awaken, finding himself wanting to go back to sleep when he heard her little sleep-ridden sighs.

Last night was confusing his emotions. It had come so naturally to him to speak of his mother to her, and to express his longing to see her again. He knew that little things Hermione did reminded him of her: the way she sang, the way she moved around the dorm, her intelligence, yet genuine concern for everyone but herself. In a different life, Naricssa Malfoy and Hermione Granger could've gotten along very well. But, since they were on opposite sides of the war, Draco knew that wasn't ever possible, yet he caught himself wishing that Hermione was a pure-blood. If she was, he wouldn't have felt resentment towards her, wouldn't have wished all the horrible things that he had wished upon her, and would've courted her in a heartbeat. If only she was a pure-blood…

He turned his head to look at her sleeping form then, sighing in content. Her hair was falling over her left eye, shielding it from the rays of white light coming into the Common Room. She was snuggled with her legs pulled close to her chest, and her arms supporting her head on the armrest of the chair. In that moment, she looked so incredibly peaceful, like there wasn't a war threatening to begin outside and she didn't have a care in the world.

Draco stood up, deciding it beneficial to go to his bed to avoid awkward early morning encounters. In front of her, he hesitated, taking her in, all of her. Her form, her smudged makeup below her eyelids, and the way her hair flowed to the left side so perfectly. Draco grabbed a blanket off of the side of the couch and draped it over Hermione's shoulders, sighing to himself as he did so. He pushed the curls out of her eyes, earning himself a soft moan from her pink lips. For the first time in his life, Draco had to pull himself away from her. He scolded himself over and over and even began to damn everything around him before he got to his bed and tumbled into the sheets. His heart was beating faster, worried she would wake up, so he stayed awake for a little while longer to make sure she didn't.

When he was certain that Hermione wasn't going to wake up for awhile longer, Draco yanked the covers up to his chest and let his mind clear itself. Even then, at that moment before he fell back into a beautiful bliss of sleep, he found himself thinking of Hermione's soft features, pink tinted lips, and how last night, she had come into the dorm looking like an entirely new woman, making Draco realize that Hermione was indeed a woman, and he was attracted to her. He couldn't decide what he hated more: the fact that she was absolutely stunning or that he longed for her now… and it was a fire that couldn't be extinguished.


	10. Chapter 10

_I've reached over 1,300 views! Oh my gosh, in five days, that's incredible! I love that all of you are so interested in my story and I appreciate you coming back to read the next chapters! Let's try to get over 2,000 by end of Monday night people! And maybe some reviews? I always love hearing from you all! This chapter is slightly darker, and you'll find out why. Just as I was craving for Draco and Hermione to leave her house and get to Hogwarts, now I'm craving for them to leave Hogwarts. It'll be so fun to put my own spin on DH and see where it takes us! :D_

Chapter 10: Hogsmead

Hermione awoke with a start to a loud rapping on the dormitory door. Her hazel eyes snapped open, finding that there was a blanket covering her. She didn't remember falling asleep with a blanket around her… The rapping came again, and she felt herself growing agitated. This was the first time she since had been back at Hogwarts that she actually had slept decently. With a stretch, she noticed she was still in the clothes Ginny had given her. Sighing, she pulled herself out of the chair and noticed there was an incantation of a body on the sofa still. Draco… he must have fallen asleep out here too. And he had covered her up. Not sure what to make of his two kind gestures in the past six hours, Hermione walked over to her dormitory door and peeked out to see baby blue eyes, wide with anticipation. Zac.

"Zac!" Hermione exclaimed, startled by his premature appearance at her door.

"Did I wake you?" Zac asked with concern. Obviously her appearance must have shown it.

"Oh, no," Hermione lied and blocked Zac from looking into the dorm. He was nearly a head taller than her, so her efforts remained futile. "Why are you here? We were supposed to leave at noon."

"McGonagall wanted us to go a little earlier, that way we can focus on planning the ball," Zac explained. Hermione realized that he was already in a grey V-neck sweater that had the Hufflepuff crest on the right breast pocket, and tan khakis. His hair was swept to the side, layered, and falling gracefully, extenuating his blue eyes.

"Right, the ball…" Hermione trailed off. "Let me shower, and we'll get going."

"Should I come in?" Zac asked, raising an eyebrow. "It would hardly be prudent for me to wait out here."

 _But, Draco…_ "No, I'll only be a few minutes."

"Alright then," Zac shrugged. "I'll go down to the Great Hall. See you in a few."

Hermione closed the door and let out a high sigh of relief.

"Who the hell was that?"

Draco's voice rang through her ears, snapping her back to reality. She turned quickly, seeing Draco standing a few feet away from his bedroom doorway, arms to his sides, and his fingers clenched into his fists. Hermione had her back pressed against the door, her eyes wide with shock and fright and then… anger. But, she couldn't help but notice the stance Draco took: almost protective, but yet enough to make her shiver. Once she got over her shock, she titled her head very so carefully to meet eyes with the Slytherin.

"How long have you been standing there? Do you want everyone to know you're here?" Hermione hissed, now backing herself off the wooden door and moving to the bathroom so she could shower. Hopefully peacefully, but Merlin knew that was highly unlikely.

"I asked you a fucking question, Granger," Draco rolled his stormy eyes to follow her to the bathroom. "Answer me!"

Hermione sighed halfway into the bathroom and answered before she closed the door and began to take off her clothes. "His name is Zacharias Smith. You should know him –"

"Yeah, I know him," Draco said through the door, his voice dark and menacing. "Fucking ignorant as they come. Annoying, selfish, slags anything that moves. He's a pure-blood, that's the only thing I respect about the prick."

Once he heard the shower running, he felt it safe to open the door and come into the bathroom. He didn't know what he was doing, just that a blind rage was overtaking him and he had to know why exactly Zacharias Smith was at Hermione's door. Hermione was in the tub with the shower curtain drawn shut as he came inside, but she yelped in shock when she heard him come in.

"What are you doing?" she yelled.

"Why was he here?" Draco demanded, his tone cold.

"Draco, you need to get out of the bathroom –"

"I'm not leaving until you answer me," he growled, low and husk.

Hermione took a deep breath and sighed, knowing this was not going to end well for either of them. A part of her was flattered that Draco was… jealous… but the other part of her screamed about how incredibly dangerous that was. She dropped her face in her hands, seeing the outline of his body though the shower curtain. He was still tense.

"McGonagall wants us to work on planning the Christmas ball," came her uneasy reply.

"Yeah? And what was this about leaving at noon?" Draco hissed, almost wanting to pull back the shower curtain to see her expression, to know if she was intent on lying to him.

Hermione sighed. "I don't want to talk about this right now, I'm in a hurry –"

"Answer the fucking question!" Draco roared, now furious at her for avoiding what she had known would lead to this. What was she doing with him? Slagging him? Merlin, the pit of his stomach began to sting at just the mere thought of it.

"Draco, it doesn't matter," Hermione began to rub her bodywash over her soft skin. The smell traveled to Draco's nostrils, and it involuntarily made him relax his muscles.

"It matters to me! What if he would have seen me? Christ, he almost pushed his way in here!" Draco yelled over the sound of the shower.

Hermione raised an eyebrow. "You saw the whole thing, so why do you need me to tell you what happened and why he was here?"

Draco chewed on his lips for a moment, trying to come up with the right response. "Because, I just need too."

"Well, that's not good enough," Hermione retorted.

Draco found the fire inside him was growing even stronger. "If you plan on slagging him, you're going to have to do it elsewhere."

Hermione's hazel eyes widened, and she peeled back just enough of the shower curtain for Draco to see her freckled shoulders and chest. Her hair was wet, and there was still bits of soap hanging onto her skin. It took all he had to keep his temper flaring.

"Don't talk to me that way!" she snarled, her voice raising. "You have no right! I'm sure if things were different and you were back on your seventh year, you'd still be with Pansy!"

Draco's eyes widened. "First off, I can speak to you however I please. Secondly, things aren't different, and no, I would not be slagging fucking Pansy!"

Hermione huffed and pulled the curtain shut, obstructing his view of her and turning off the water. "You still have no right! There isn't anything going on between Zac and I—"

"Zac, huh? Hard to believe when you're on a nickname basis," he growled.

"This is ridiculous," Hermione said and reached an arm out to grab her robe off the hook to her right. "You are being absolutely ridiculous!"

"I most certainly am fucking not," Draco said and watched almost eagerly as she emerged from the tub: her hair damp now and her white robe covering most of her body. Hermione tried to brush past him, but for some reason, only known to Merlin, Draco grabbed her wrist and turned her to look him in the eyes, locking onto hers with an intensity only a fate-fearing man could have. "I'm not."

"Yes you are," Hermione said, twisting out of his grip. "Let me get ready, I need to go."

He let her go, but still followed her to her room, where he put both of his hands against the doorframe, leaning in as she disappeared into her closet. There was something going on – a part of him just knew it. It was something any intelligent person would have been able to figure out providing they felt the way Draco did about Hermione. His lips curled into a straight line as she emerged with black leggings, a pink blouse, and a grey peacoat on. She looked formal, like she was going somewhere fancy. Granted, she was going to Hogsmead, and Draco would have dressed formally as well, would he have been going. He watched as she slipped on brown anke-high boots, and pulled a white beanie over her curls. Hermione turned to stare at him, her arms crossed.

"Do you need something?" she asked, reminding him of how he drawled to her.

"No," Draco replied, still eyeing her, taking in her beauty. Merlin, he even saw her glow. And her scent was overwhelming him. He didn't want her to go.

"Then move," Hermione began to move towards him, but Draco made no indication of moving. "Draco, move, I need to go."

Draco was torn between making her stay with him or letting her leave with the prude. The latter repulsed him to the point of almost sickness, and his tight lips turned into a frown as Hermione approached him. His shoulders softened as she drew nearer, until she was directly in front of him. He titled his head slightly; the top of her head came up to just under his chin. She looked up at him with those beautiful hazel eyes, and Draco knew then that he had to let her go. With the slightest movement, he brought his fingers to her cheeks and moved a stray curl away from her eyes. Hermione looked a bit taken aback by his gesture, but he didn't care.

He let her pass him, not moving from where he stood, his feet locked in place. Draco watched her go, and noted the look over her shoulder as she left the dorm. He ran a hand over the stubble on his chin and cheeks and walked into her room where her scent was lingering. Crookshanks nudged him as he sat on Hermione's bed, climbing into his lap. Draco found himself stroking the cat as he quietly devoured his thoughts.

From the moment that she had begun to infatuate him, it was almost as though his mind had turned to rubbish, every ounce of sense leaving with it. When he had seen Zacharias at the door, the anger that raced through his body physically made him shake and feel sick with rage. But, why? He didn't understand, he shouldn't have cared. Even when Pansy went onto sleep with Theo, he didn't react that way. But, maybe it was because his feelings for Hermione were stronger than they ever were for Pansy… No. No, she was a _Mudblood_. With a sigh, Draco leaned back in her bed, overtaken by the scent of orchids and coconuts, and realized with a start that that excuse wasn't going to work to justify his longing for her anymore.

* * *

Hermione rushed to meet Zac in the Great Hall, glancing at the clock and seeing it was almost eleven. Has she really slept that late? She saw Zac talking to a few Hufflepuff girls in the entrance before he spotted her and bid them farewell. As he approached her, he couldn't help but smile. Hermione was still morbidly confused about Draco's kind gestures, and could only offer Zac a small smile as he led them out of the castle.

The wind was almost non-existent today, though the sky was grey and the clouds were overcast. The leaves on the trees had since fallen off of their branches, and all that was left on the ground was a cold frost. If it wasn't so morbid, it would've actually been quite beautiful.

As they went into the village, Hermione noticed that her and Zac weren't the only ones doing some gleeful shopping. Many villagers, wizards, and witches hurried about the streets, smiling, laughing, and having a wonderful day. Zac offered Hermione his arm, which she took cautiously, but allowed him to lead her around the village none-the-less.

"Well, this is nice," Zac said.

Hermione was busy attempting to remember what Draco had told her to get for him. So busy she didn't realize Zac had spoken to her until several seconds afterwards. "Oh, yes. It's good to be away for awhile."

"Tell me, Hermione," Zac said, clasping his hand onto her gloved one. Hermione looked at him with almost narrowed eyes, but then let it be. "What will happen to you once Voldemort overtakes the Ministry?"

Hermione sighed. "I don't know. I suppose I should help Harry and Ron the best I can."

"That's what I hoped you'd say. I couldn't live with myself knowing that you went into hiding," Zac chuckled. "But, this could be our last time enjoying Hogsmead as we know it."

"It could very well be," Hermione replied, before turning Zac into a soap shop, operated by a middle-aged witch with her hair up in a messy bun on the top of her head. "I need to get some new bodywash."

"No problem," Zac smiled and allowed Hermione to browse the isles.

Draco hadn't given her a specific scent that he wanted, but when Hermione thought about the Slytherin, she thought about what made Draco so unique. As her fingers brushed every container of soap on the shelf, she began to think about his gentle gestures. The way he had covered her in the morning, how he was almost possessive when Zac was at the door, and when he brushed the curl out of her eye… Even the hot chocolate. Her stomach turned to butterflies when she replayed the memories in her mind. He was different, and she was changing him, slowly accommodating him to the life outside of Voldemort. For that, she was eternally grateful, and wondered if maybe, just maybe, she should take changing his views a little more seriously. It would be her ultimate goal now.

She decided on peppermint.

A few books from Tomes and Scrolls on Wizarding lore, wands, and history.

A new bought of herbal tea with lavender and passionfruit from Dogweed and Deathcap.

A new black sweater, some tshirts, khakis, and a coat, from Gladrag's Wizard Wear.

And finally, milk chocolate from Honeydukes.

Zac had asked her what all of her purchases were for, but Hermione insisted on Christmas gifts for the boys, if she saw them by then. Luckily for her, Zac believed her, and let the subject stand. She held onto his arm for the rest of their time in the village, feeling too skittish for him to be away from her for very long. The two settled at The Three Broomsticks for a glass of butterbeer and to discuss the point of their trip: the Christmas Ball.

"So, what do you think the theme should be?" Zac asked, sipping his mug.

It was toasty in the pub, the amber glow reflecting off of the wood gave a homey like comfort. There were many wizards talking to Madam Rosmarta about the attacks on Muggles and the raids the Death Eaters were carrying out. Hermione's eyes drifted over to a wanted poster of Lucius… her heart sank, mostly for Draco's sake.

"A wonderland, far from here," Hermione replied. "I want them to remember that there is good in the world…"

"I thought you thought the ball was a stupid idea," Zac chuckled, his blue eyes trying to lock onto her own.

"I did, and I still do. But, if McGonagall is insistent, we should do it," Hermione told Zac with a shrug. "Besides, it will keep spirits up. The longer we can prevent what's happening out here getting into the castle, the happier everyone is going to be."

"Which reminds me, Hermione," Zac leaned across their table, and put a hand over hers. "Would you like to be my date to the ball?"

Hermione's eyes blinked rapidly. The last time she had been asked to a ball was by Viktor Krum, and Merlin only knew what happened afterwards… Besides, she wasn't romantically interested in Zac, just as friends, even though he was growing on her. Even now, when he looked across the table with only gentleness in his eyes, Hermione couldn't help but wish she was safely in the castle with Draco. Though Zac was a noble wizard: kind, honest, and full of potential, she knew her heart didn't lie with him. Neither did it lie with Viktor, nor Cormack, nor Ron. But, for publicity sake, she knew she couldn't deny him.

"Sure, but only as Heads," Hermione reminded him, still earning a stretched smile from the boy across from her.

"That's fine, I'm glad you agreed," Zac said and retracted his hand. "Remember what I told you about living a little? You've seemed a lot more relaxed since then."

 _A lot has happened since then…_

"Yeah, thanks for telling me that. Sometimes, I just get so caught up in trying to help Harry and Ron, training the D.A., and the Order… I loose myself," Hermione explained. "And then there's school, and trying to keep everything normal…" _And Draco…_

"It sounds to me like you should take a breather and relax," Zac took a sip of butterbeer.

"Not until after Voldemort is gone," Hermione said. "After he's dead, then I can relax."

Zac sighed. "Hermione, I want you to know that I have the uptmost faith in you and Potter, but The Order is going up against hundreds of Death Eaters, and well… I just don't know."

Hermione's eyes looked up to meet his. "I know it's hard to imagine us winning, but there's always a small chance. There are a lot of people on our side, and people who are turning to our side, too. If I end up having to leave, promise me that you will keep Hogwarts safe."

Zac looked flattered. "Hermione, that's a big job, and you can count on me, but honestly, this war is much bigger than you and me, the D.A., the Ministry, everything. The basis of it truly is about who should rule our world, and if Voldemort wins, there will be no more Muggle-borns or half-bloods. The entire history of our world will be rewritten to his standards. That's what I am afraid of."

Hermione couldn't help but nod in agreement to Zac as she sipped her butterbeer. Perhaps he was a lot more insightful than what she gave him credit for. The two finished their butterbeer and headed back up to Hogwarts, arms full of their new belongings. There was an ever so haunting feeling about going back to the castle, as though they were hiding from an oncoming onslaught. Hermione was never fond of the idea of hiding, and she somewhat realized that half the reason why she was here was because she was being hidden. Zac offered to walk her back to her dorm, which she politely refused, her excuse being that she was tired and needed sleep. As usual, Zac did not question her, probably knowing that he was getting all out of her today.

Hermione snuck into her dorm to see the couches and chairs empty. Her heart sank: Draco hadn't been waiting for her. Cautiously, she approached his room, finding that he was not in there. Confused, she went to the kitchen, which he also wasn't in, which only left one place: her room. With a horrible feeling in her gut, Hermione realized that she hadn't locked it before she had left and saw Draco laying on her bed, reading a newspaper he had found on her bed stand, and Crookshanks curled neatly between his feet.

"Hello," Hermione offered her greeting softly, as though not to disturb him.

Draco slowly put the newspaper down, bringing his face into view. Hermione noticed his normal smugness, but it went away when he saw what she held: bags. Bags for him. Hermione sat herself on the side of her bed as he pushed himself up into a sitting position.

"Do I want to know why you're in here?" she demanded, her eyes narrow now.

"You can barge in and out of my room whenever you like," Draco replied evenly.

Sighing, and wondering if getting Draco all of these things was a bad idea, she began to pull each possession out, one by one. She began with the clothes, which Draco placed beside him, then the chocolate, which he muttered something about making better hot chocolate with, then the books, which he eyed suspiciously until he was able to read the titles then he relaxed a bit, and finally, the peppermint body wash. Draco took it and sniffed, a subtle grin on his face.

"Peppermint, huh, Granger?"

"Yes."

"Why did you chose this one?" he asked, still inhaling it.

"It reminded me of you."

It reminded Draco of home. Malfoy Manor always carried the scent of his father's cologne, which was a mix between peppermint and spearmint. Even as Draco went to school, the scent followed him, and he wasn't sure if it was all Slytherin's who reeked of it or just him and his robes. Regardless, he looked up at Hermione, and his eyes said all that he couldn't say.

"Smith is a git," Draco said, changing the conversation.

"Draco, now is hardly the time –"

"Really, Granger, you may think he's all fine and dandy right now –"

"Draco, I told you: Zac and I are not romantically involved," Hermione assured him with a small smile. "Do you like your gifts?"

Thank you's were not big in Draco's vocabulary, so he decided on something a little more subtle. "They are adequate."

"Coming from you, I suppose I can handle that," Hermione said and rose from her bed. "Now, please get out of my room."

"You don't like me in here? Wow, that's slightly hypocritical," came his sneered reply.

Hermione rolled her hazel eyes. "Will you take your stuff and leave my room please? I'd like to catch a nap."

"Whatever you say, Granger," Draco said, collecting his new belongings and leaving the room. Hermione noticed that Crookshanks followed Draco on his heels as he left. Confused but not bothered, Hermione began to take off her outerwear and prepare herself for a gentle nap.

* * *

"We are running out of time!" Mad-Eye snapped, looking around the table to his fellow Order members. "You-Know-Who will attack any moment and do us all in –"

"Alastor, that's quite enough –"

"Don't pretend like you don't know, Andromeda," Mad-Eye rolled his mechanical eye around to look at her. The older witch looked slightly uncomfortable.

"Alastor, please, we need to be reasonable. I do agree, however, that the time for waiting has long gone," Lupin remarked, his fingers tracing the stubble outlining his chin. "The threat is more imminent now than it has ever been."

"The Minister is well guarded, Minerva, I can promise you that," Kingsley assured the Headmistress. "We have all sorts of traps and checkpoints set up in the Ministry that even a fly wouldn't be able to get through."

"Hogwarts is well protected," Tonks put in thoughtfully. "The Wards will hold against anything for quite awhile."

"So, where would he strike?" McGonagall asked. "The only two places that are worth something to him are unable to be reached."

"That's what we should fear," Mad-Eye snarled.

"The Dark Lord is concerned about his Horcruxes," Snape interjected. All eyes in the room turned to look at him, concern in their eyes, as if they hadn't noticed he had come in. "When the time is right, Hogwarts will be attacked, and I will take Minvera's place as Headmaster. I can work from the inside, while allowing Voldemort to believe he is in control."

"Is that wise, Severus? Surely there must be another option," Lupin said.

"No, I'm afraid there isn't," Snape said softly. "When Potter destroys the Horcruxes, which he inevitably will, the Dark Lord will be at his mercy, and Potter will know exactly where to find him."

"A good plan, Severus," Mad-Eye agreed. "When is this to go into motion?"

"It won't be long now," Snape looked to McGonagall, and they exchanged a look that words didn't have to express. She pressed her palm into her skull, easing the rising headache that came after the argument. "I suggest you begin warning parents of Muggle-borns and half-bloods now, Minerva."

"Agreed. Arthur, begin a list and contacting the parents in the Ministry. Be secretive and make sure your messages are not intercepted. Face to face contact is the best," she instructed. "Everyone else, continue your training and prepare portkeys to safe houses. The time is coming, my friends. We have to be prepared to win this war. Or else, we will die trying."


	11. Chapter 11

_Good afternoon guys! Happy Graduation Day too many of the youngsters out there! We were slammed at work all day, and let me tell ya… never been so happy to get off and come home. So here comes an exciting night of writing and hanging out with Christine. Also, the amount of research and HP I've been watching lately has been insane. Whoop whoop. Review, please. :D_

Chapter 11: Time

Time is one's worst enemy, yet their best friend. It can create a melancholy feeling, or make you feel like you're on top of the world. Sometimes, you can ignore it, sometimes it drags on. In Draco Malfoy's case, time was dragging on like nails on chalkboard. It made you squirm, yet you couldn't run away from it. He tapped his foot on the floor to keep in time with the clock's ticks, yet again reminding him of time. Time… How long had he been with Granger? Four months. Four months, and his feelings towards her were strong. So strong that he had to shut them down, remind himself that Salazar would be ashamed of what he his true intentions.

He was a young man now. Since the age of fifteen, Draco had been finding himself romantically involved with women. All of them had been Slytherins, mostly because of his upbringing. His mind wandered to a faint memory of Pansy last year, sliding herself out of his bed, and staring at her bare back. In that moment, he had felt nothing for the girl, and he had accepted that when he found the right woman, she would be more than convenient. More than just allowing him to bed her whenever he wished.

He remembered how he felt when he first saw Hermione on the train to Hogwarts, nearly seven years ago. Her hair was still the unkempt mop it was now, her eyes still that beautiful hazel, and she had wit and charm. Draco thought that she belonged in Slytherin House with him. Merlin knew his disappointment when the Sorting Hat placed her with the two pricks she called best friends in Gryffindor. He found out soon after that she was Muggle-born, and decided that he could never look at her the same again. He remembered second year when he saw her in Borgin and Burkes at Lockhardt's signing. She was with her parents and the Weasel's family. When he arrived, she was explaining to the Weasley girl about Lockhardt's accomplishments. He was with his father, who must have seen him staring at her because he carefully reminded him that she was Muggle-born. His father's tone was cool: no son of his would ever degrade himself to the point of marrying a Mudblood. Third year, he had some classes with her. Care of Magical Creatures with that stupid oaf Hagrid. She was there when that stupid Hypogriff stomped on his arm. She had called him a right git then, but he ignored her. When he was with Blaise and Goyle, intent on watching the execution of that stupid bird, she was also there. Hermione ran up to him with the same fire in her eyes that he had seen so much of, that he loved to see, and pointed her wand right under his chin. For the first time in his life, he was actually intimidated by her because he knew there was nothing stopping her from jinxing him. It was then that she had turned and punched him, right in the nose, breaking it upon impact. He even bore a slight scar on the right of his nose in case she wanted to be reminded. But, when he had ran away sheepishly, he had never felt so alive.

And so came fourth year, and that dreaded tournament. He meagerly stood back and watched as Potter once again got all the glory. At the Quidditch World Cup, when the Death Eaters attacked, he remembered seeing Potter in the chaos, grabbing him by the arm, and yelling in his face to get Hermione as far away from there as possible. It was an action that had haunted and confused him ever since. He once again had classes with her: Defense Against the Dark Arts taught by who they all thought was Mad-Eye Moody. When Moody had cast the Cruciatus Curse on the spider, Draco watched as she cringed. That was the first time that he hadn't taken pride in watching her in pain. Draco remembered watching her intensely as she begged Moody to stop the curse, but he didn't, and remembered the tears in her eyes when he killed the spider. Later on, Moody turned him into a ferret. Luckily, Hermione didn't see that, but he was fairly certain that Potter and Weasley had told her all about it. He also couldn't get the image of her in that pink dress out of his mind… Merlin, she was beautiful.

Fifth year came and went as quick as the summers. The threat of Voldemort returning was more serious. Potter began the D.A. – Dumbledore's Army. What a stupid name. That was also the year that he became a Prefect, not really to any surprise of his peers or teachers. Hermione had also received that honor. Together, they had many duties, but always spat back and forth between one another. When Umbridge made him part of the Inquisitorial Squad, he did everything in his power to uncover the group, but took the most relish in seeing Hermione held in Umbridge's office. He remembered the look she gave him: of pure disgust. He hadn't realized his face had softened until Pansy asked him about it and demanded to know why he was feeling sorry for a Mudblood. He apologized and made love to Pansy that night. It was that night that his father was captured by the Ministry and sent to Azkaban.

The summer of his sixth year, he joined the Death Eaters to replace his father, an action which made him scowl. It was all because of his crazy Aunt and her nagging that he was branded to begin with, along with his own selfish reasons to get his father out of that horrible place. Voldemort gave him the mission to kill Dumbledore, and that's when this hellish nightmare began. Draco knew that Hermione saw that he was off, and remembered her screaming at him when he called her a Mudblood out of spite. The look in her eyes was something he could never forget: pain, anguish, anger. If she had any idea what he was feeling at that point, she wouldn't have blamed him for snapping. Hell, maybe she would've even done it to save her parents. Merlin only knew.

And now, he was here. Trapped in these four walls, with only a few windows to let him see the outside world. He didn't all hate it. In fact, being in this sanctuary had led him to conclusions that he wouldn't have been able to understand otherwise. But, now, he was pacing again, considering his feelings for his roommate. Merlin, she pissed him off. Yet, she intrigued him. He longed to brush her skin again, just to feel the softness. Draco sighed to himself and sat down on the couch. He pulled one of the books she had gotten him from the pile on the table, and stared at it for a long time.

That's when it came to him.

"Seamus, if I have to tell you to bugger off one more time…" whispered Hermione as she saw Seamus at Slughorn's door with Dean. She caught his eyes, and he motioned for her to come to him with his pointer finger. She rolled her eyes around to look at Neville who just shrugged. Quietly, Hermione arose from her chair, handed her book to Professor Slughorn, and slipped into the hallway. "What is it? Couldn't it have waited until after class?"

"No, this is too important," Seamus said and began walking. Hermione followed and Dean picked up the rear. "Luna's gone."

"What do you mean gone?" Hermione asked, her eyebrows narrowing.

"She's gone, as in, we don't know where she is," Dean replied.

"What? How could she have disappeared? Surely someone must have seen where she went or who she went with," Hermione reasoned. This was all just a major misunderstanding and Hermione was convinced of that.

"No one," Seamus shook his head.

"We haven't seen or heard from her in three days," Dean said.

"Have you told McGonagall?" Hermione demanded. The three were now rounding up the steps, and their voices were hushed. Only Hermione's was frantic.

"Yes, and McGonagall said it was her business where she went –"

"Did McGonagall seem at all worried?" asked Hermione, now settling down a bit.

"No, but –"

"If McGonagall's not worried, then you shouldn't be either," reasoned Hermione, her voice returning to its normal octaves.

"Hermione, something isn't right here," Dean said, stopping her before they reached the Great Hall. She could tell by the look on the boys' faces that they were genuinely concerned. "None of us are allowed to leave the castle except you and Smith. So, why does Luna get to come and go as she pleases?"

"Maybe she's helping the Order –"

"Oh yeah? How likely is that?" Seamus asked, giving her his no-nonsense face. "Luny Lovegood helping the order do what? Repel nargals?"

Dean stiffened a laugh and Hermione shot him a deadly glare. "No, she has done a lot for the Order and the D.A. If you two think she's so looney, then why do you care so much that she's gone?"

"We may not think she's sane, Hermione, but she's one of us," Dean supplied. "She would do the same if anything happened to us."

Hermione let out a low breath. "That's true. Just… keep me informed. I'm going to my dorm."

She let in a hurry, still trying to convince herself that Luna was out doing something to further their cause. What it was, she didn't know, and she didn't have too. But, it gave her a certain peace of mind that McGonagall wasn't worried, and it touched her that Dean and Seamus were. Well, obviously Dean more than Seamus but that was to be expected. As Hermione approached her dorm, she swore she saw a black streak peek around the corner closest to her, and she suddenly was under the impression that she was being watched. Quickly, she whispered the password to her door and snuck inside to see Draco spring to his feet when she walked in.

"What's got you so jumpy?" he demanded, watching as she placed a hand over her fast-beating heart.

"Oh, I just thought that I saw someone – you know, it doesn't matter," Hermione replied. She walked to her bedroom and Draco followed her meagerly. "What do you want?"

"Don't want me around, Granger?" Draco demanded. He noticed that she had forgot to close her bedroom door and he watched as she unbuttoned her white shirt, and pulled it off of her arms, tossing it to the ground. He saw the straps of her red bra, and noticed the creamy consistency of her skin. A twinge erupted in his stomach… if only he could touch her.

He could, if he wanted too. Just inch closer and closer until she was under his fingertips. His breath caught as she turned slightly, noticing that he was staring at her back.

"You're such a prick, get out!" Hermione yelled, reaching to grab for her wand on her bed.

"Embarrassed?" Draco asked and Hermione stopped. She still hadn't completely turned around, and he was staring at her back, memorizing how her curls fell down to her shoulders, and how the curve of her side morphed into hips.

Hermione's arms were now covering her chest, worried that if she turned around, something may happen that was spontaneous yet also beautiful. "No."

"Then why are you trying to hide?" he asked.

She turned to look at him over her freckled shoulder, her hazel eyes down at the floor. "I'm not comfortable."

"Not comfortable? Granger, you're being a hypocrite," Draco pointed out and leaned against her doorframe, hands in the pockets of the khakis she had bought him. "You're embarrassed and not comfortable. Those are basically the same thing."

"Don't tell me what I already know, Draco," Hermione said, still too unsure of herself to move. "Can you please just leave so I can change?"

"No," came Draco's curt reply. She knew that if she reached for her wand, he would still have a full of view of her. He had to stuck to the spot, and he knew it.

"This isn't fair," Hermione snapped angrily.

"You're right. It's actually pretty amusing," argued Draco, a grin on his face. He was almost sad that Hermione couldn't see it. "You know, Granger, if you stopped covering yourself, maybe you'd have a little sex appeal."

Hermione's face grew hot. "Shut up…"

"No, really," Draco drawled. "If you tamed that owl nest you call hair and started showing a little leg, maybe you'd loose your virginity."

Angrily, Hermione spun around without even realizing it. Draco smiled, his eyes falling on her chest, then down to her bosom, which was covered by a plain red bra, matching the straps. With an audible gasp, Hermione quickly covered her chest and searched for something to cover herself with. Draco looked down to the basket full of clothes beside her door and grabbed one of his shirts (a black one with a v neck that he particularly liked) and stretched out his hand to hand the shirt to her. Hermione snatched it from him and quickly pulled it over her head. It went down to almost her knees, and she quickly slipped off her skirt behind her closet door. Draco examined his fingernails and whistled as she dressed herself. When she came out, she was wearing black leggings. He decided black looked good on her and made a mental note of it.

"For your information, I am not a virgin," she spat at him as she walked up to his figure. She was only up to just below his chin, and he had realized a long time ago that she wasn't intimidating.

"Oh really?" Draco asked. There was a sharp feeling, like dagers, in his chest. "Did Weasley coax you into feeling sorry enough to shag him?"

"That is none of your business," she replied hotly. "Now move!"

Draco noticed that in her fury, she had left her wand on her bed. "No, I think I'm good."

"You can't just trap me in here!"

"I think I can."

"No, you can't! I can just make you move and you know how that ends up going –"

"If you shut up, maybe your mouth could be a redeeming quality –"

"Oh, we're going to start insults again? How mature of you!"

"I'm not the one who is throwing a fit."

"You're right, you're enjoying this way too much!"

"Damn right!"

"Just move, DRACO!"

Grinning to himself, he noticed that her eyes were on fire again. She reached up and slapped his chest, hard. Twice. Grimacing in now pain, he caught her hand in midair before she could smack him a third time. That just infuriated her more.

"Why don't you ever just stop?" Hermione demanded. "It's always something with you! You always have to do something to get under my skin –"

"Why wouldn't I if it's so easy?" he asked her. The feeling of her fingers wrapping around his hand mesmerized him for a moment. He looked down, she was indeed holding his hand, and he slowly lowered it down, a feeling of pure bliss racing through him.

Hermione's eyes lost their fire as she titled her head, studying him with her hazels intent. Draco matched her intense stare, finding himself lost in her eyes. For the first time in a long time, he felt at ease. Her fingers began to absently stroke over his thumb, and he steadied himself, knowing what was going to happen before it did.

Did he second guess himself? Not at that moment. The fingers from his left hand came up to her face, brushing the loose strands of curls out of her eyes, mirroring his action from yesterday. Hermione didn't move, just studied his action, and a relaxed small smile came across her face. With gentleness, he ran his fingers along the side of her cheek, breathing in her intoxicating smell of orchids and coconuts, and titled her chin up to look him in his stormy grey eyes. The way that she looked at him made him feel like he was the most important man in the entire universe, and that was something that a woman hadn't ever made him feel. But, damn… The thoughts of remorse of what he was about to do began to linger in his mind, coming at him little by little as he stared down at the witch. _She's a Mudblood. What would father say about this? This is wrong and you know it. Stop now, while you still have an ounce of self-respect left! Remember your place!_ But, as Draco opened his lips, about to yell and carry on, maybe even throw a few things, Hermione hushed him.

"Don't say anything."

It was a command that Draco could follow. His mouth snapped shut, but was soon overtaken by a force that he couldn't control. A soft pressure was on his lips, gentle and warm. Her hand was still wrapped around his, stroking his thumb. From his many kisses with women, he knew that this was the type that was experimental. If it worked, you continued. If it didn't, then it was back to square one. Draco titled his head to capture her lips, slowly suckling on her bottom lip, earning a little sigh out of her that made the twinge in his stomach appear again. His free hand went back to tip her head to the side, where he could easily envelope her. Hermione's other hand was now gently on the nape of his neck, and he realized she was on her tip-toes. It was intoxicating: this moment, her smell, the way she kissed him. Every nerve in Draco's body was begging for release… But, he shut it down.

 _Remember your place._

Draco pulled away quickly, letting realization fall over him like a cold blanket. "Fuck, no." He backed away from her, shaking his head ever so slightly.

"Draco, don't," Hermione reached out to him, but he continued stepping backwards, shaking his head more noticeably now.

"No, this isn't supposed to happen. Do you know how royally fucked up this is?" he demanded accusingly, like it was her fault that he had feelings for her, that he had just kissed her.

Hermione was shaking now, disturbed by what had been one of the most real moments in her entire life. "I don't –"

"Do you have any idea what you're fucking doing to me?" Draco asked her, now in the Common Room. A wild look was in his grey eyes, mixed with sadness and desperation.

"Draco –"

"Just stop!" he roared, kicking over her chair and grasping his head in his hands. "I can't do this! I don't do this! I don't! You don't understand!"

"Please, just stop –"

"NO! Get away from me!"

Hermione hadn't realized that she was in the Common Room now, somehow desperate to comfort the grieving man on her floor. Draco was only a few feet away but it felt like miles. He was shaking, and she couldn't see his eyes. That's what scared her the most. He looked broken, and in utter despair.

"Draco, please, listen to me –" Hermione was on her knees now, just inches away from his shaking form. She bravely extended a hand and laid it on his shoulder.

"Don't touch me!" cried Draco, batting her hand away from his skin. He didn't need her touch, her soothing gestures. He needed to be reminded of what she was: filthy, disgusting, Mudblood. But, the way that she looked at him now, so caring and concerned, even while he was down on the floor shaking with distress, made him realize for the umpteenth time that she definitely was not those things.

"Draco," she said softly, and he was beginning to calm himself from hearing his name roll off of her tongue. "Draco, please, listen to me."

"That was a mistake, I shouldn't have…" he trailed off, his head still in his hands, shaking back and forth slowly.

"Draco, you've changed," Hermione said. Maybe it was more wishful thinking on her part, after taking into account that making Draco more human was her number one priority, but she was seeing subtle changes in his behavior: just like tonight.

"I haven't changed," he snapped. "This whole situation is fucking with my head."

"No," Hermione said sternly and he looked up at her with bloodshot eyes. "No, you have. You stopped calling me a … Mudblood." Draco chewed on his bottom lip and didn't reply. "You've stopped insulting me."

"Leave me alone, Granger," he warned her, sounding half-heartened instead of the threatening tone he meant to produce.

"Draco, I know you wanted to kiss me," Hermione said gently. "Why?"

"I'm a blood-traitor now, it doesn't even fucking matter –"

"I wanted to kiss you," Hermione told him quickly, cutting him enough so he would listen to her and not go on to pity-party himself. "For a long time. Just relax, Draco."

"I can't relax," he murmured. "What do you want from me? To coat everything in rainbows and unicorns like a fucking Hufflepuff and just let it be?"

"I want you to be honest with me," Hermione sat on her bum facing him now. Draco merely looked up at her and she felt a wisp of hope. "What you and I shared –"

"We shared nothing," he told her cooly. "That was just a result of how this place is fucking with me, making me lose my morals and shit."

"Draco," she said softly, as though she could see right through him and Merlin knew she could. "I know you aren't repulsed by me."

"Shut up, Granger," he muttered. "Don't act like you know—"

"I don't, Draco," Hermione said and took his hands that were now in his lap. He looked down at them and then at her, matching her hazel like he did just minutes before. "I don't, and I couldn't even begin too, and you know that."

"I betrayed my family!" Draco groaned, rolling his eyes to the floor then the ceiling, then the floor again.

"Maybe, Draco, it's for the better," Hermione said softly, reaching out to stroke his cheek. He looked at her with resilience, and for a moment, she thought he would argue with her. But, he didn't. Instead, he let his shoulders sag and let himself be touched by her; after all, her touch melted away all of the fear, anger, and hatred that he had for his situation.

His grey eyes teased her dauntlessness towards him, and she found herself pushing herself closer to him until she was between his legs and her hands were on his chest. They were painfully close again, and all Draco wanted to do was turn away but he couldn't. Hermione placed her head against his chest, right below his left shoulder, and uttered a small strangled sigh. For a moment, Draco was almost certain that she was going to cry (Merlin knew that Draco would either become infuriated or cry along with her if she did), but Hermione suppressed her anxiety and tears and just let herself wrap around Draco's unresponsive torso.

After a few minutes, Draco's muscles began to ache so he pushed himself and Hermione against the nearest couch. With her wrapped up around him like this, it made his heart ache and his head throb. For the past how many days, all he wanted was this, and now that he had it, a part of him was calming. If it wasn't for the common sense that crept up on him every time he was about to do something his heart wanted, Draco would've already been in bed with her, hoping to relinquish the fire that burned for her in his soul.

Hermione's breaths became light and steady after awhile, leaving Draco to know she had fallen asleep. It also left him feeling guilty for his outburst towards her, and wanted to do something for her to forgive him. When he was sure she was out, he picked her up with her legs dangling over his right arm, and his left arm wrapped around her back, and carried her to her bedroom, Crookshanks right behind him on his heels. He laid her down on her bed, carefully to make sure she didn't awaken, and pulled her covers up to her chin. Crookshanks padded around a spot next to her thigh before settling down and nuzzling his owner. Draco, in all his high and might, planted a kiss on her forehead before slipping out of her room and shutting the door behind him, knowing fully well that he wouldn't be able to go back inside.

Draco knew she wouldn't be asleep for very long, as it was early evening now and the rays of sun were still gawking at them for a little while longer. Sighing, he brought himself into the kitchen, hungry again. Normally, Hermione would bring him something for dinner, but tonight, she obviously wasn't going anywhere. With a sigh, he began to rummage in the cupboards. Tonight, he would make her something to eat, maybe to show appreciation or just that he could learn to cook without magic or that he was still above her in some aspects. Regardless of the reason, Draco began to take down ingredients and tried his hand at something that he never did before… Out of respect for a Muggle-born.


	12. Chapter 12

_Good evening guys! There's always some sort of great pride that you get when you're privileged enough to write a story such as this. I'm thankful that you all are reading this. Please remember to review – I love to hear from you guys. Also, the amount of followers has gone up so much in the little amount of time that this story has been up. I'm so excited! We are also at almost 2,000 views. Keep it going people! :D Tell your friends, most of them don't want you to know how big of nerds they really are! Frogster also asked how many women has Draco slept with. He's slept with quite a few, maybe upwards of 7-10. Don't look at him any differently, our poor boy was just going through his teenage angst._

Chapter 12: Grey

Hermione sat on her cream window seat, watching the amber glow of the torches on the frozen ground intently. Her hazel eyes blinked as she watched the laughter of a few students outside, holding hands and gripping onto one another to keep warm. She was still wearing Draco's shirt, and it was keeping her warm against the cool window. Her mind wandered as she stared outside. She could see a few of the towers and the reflection of the moonlight on the lake. It truly was beautiful, in an eerie and still way. Her fingers curled around her ankles as she watched outside for anything she could focus on, yet found nothing. Distraction to keep her thoughts of Draco at bay was essential, yet she couldn't find anything to keep her from thinking about him.

She had kissed him… Godric, had she really been that stupid? Uttering a small sigh, she remembered how she had felt when he softened his eyes and looked at her like she was the only thing keeping his universe afloat. She saw the flicker of horrid realization cross over Draco's eyes, and she saw his lips part, knowing that he would begin to insult her and go to cower in his room like he always did. But, she had stopped that. In her heart, it was what she wanted. And when she had pressed her lips against his, it was like a rush of purity, of happiness, or an intense shock that rumbled through her body. Hermione knew it was wrong, but Merlin, did it feel right…

And then his outburst. Of course, because he couldn't just leave well enough alone. For a few minutes, she didn't know how to comfort him, or if she would have even let him kiss her again if she wanted too. But, obviously her constant assuring him that things were going to be okay worked, because he let his guard down, allowing her to climb into the space between his legs and chest. At that point, Hermione was tired of him pushing her away and she just wanted comfort, the comfort that Harry or Ron would've been there to give her if her world wasn't so royally screwed up. She half-thought he would push her away, but he didn't, and that meant a lot to her. For the first time, she fell asleep that close to him. It felt right and just.

Awakening a few hours later, when it was finally dark outside, she realized that Draco had taken her to her bed and covered her. He also closed the door to leave her alone in her privacy, but that's not what she wanted. Even now, when she was curled up on her window seat, staring outside. How long had she been awake? Having not looked at the clock when she awoke, she didn't know. It seemed like forever.

Merlin, she missed the boys something fierce. It was almost as if the icy chill that lingered outside her window something traveled through the glass and intertwined itself with her warm body. She had grown cold thinking about them and the constant battle of if they were alive or not. If there had been any other way to keep this war from happening, Hermione would've taken it. But, since there wasn't, she was stuck here, back to her reality. That reality was so much colder than the cool air outside ever could be.

* * *

Draco had stared at his creation for a long while before realizing that he wasn't the stupidest bloke in the world. He had created a wonderful Stir-Fry out of the vegetables and cooked chicken in the freezer, complete with rice and two butterbeers. The question was: would it be an adequate apology? Saying sorry was never in Draco's vocabulary; actions undoubtedly spoke more than words did anyhow. He had set the meal in two plates across the table from one another, reminding himself of the way his mother set the table. It was the only way that he knew how.

It had taken him quite some time to prepare the meal without magic, and when he noticed that Hermione still hadn't emerged from her room, he became quickly logical. She would probably sleep through the night. But, then all of his work would've been for nothing and he wasn't about to let that happen. With quick strides, he walked over to her bedroom door and knocked twice.

Hermione's head perked up. Her heart was jumping out of its chest as she rolled herself off of the ledge and absently ran a hand over Crookshanks as she passed. She opened the door to see Draco, his normal nonchalant expression on his face. Looking up at him, she wondered what he could possibly be doing.

"What do you want?" Hermione asked. Then she smelled it. Food. Draco had prepared food. She craned her neck to see two plates with steam rising on them. "Draco, you made dinner –"

"Yeah, always the tone of surprise," he muttered, looking slightly embarrassed yet confident. "Why are you still standing there?"

Hermione walked over to the table to see that he truly had prepared a wonderfully delightful looking dinner. She took her seat across from him, seeing that he was still in his khakis, but his shirt was different: it was a dark navy blue that brought out the grey in his eyes. He watched as she picked up her fork and took a bite of his creation, worried that she would spit it back out, but she didn't. Her eyes gleamed as she chewed.

"This is really good," she commented and took another bite. "Thank you."

"Yeah," Draco said and took a bite himself. _Not bad, Malfoy, you fucking prick._ "When I was reading one of the books about wands, something came to me."

Hermione's eyebrows raised and she set down her fork. "What was that?"

"I think I know why Voldemort needs a new wand," he said, meeting her eyes. "You're not going to like it, in fact you're going to fucking hate it, and it's going to make everything a hell of a lot worse."

"Spit it out –"

"I need you to get something first. McGonagall should have a copy…"

"For Merlin's sake, Draco –"

"The Tales of Beedle the Bard," Draco reviled finally, holding his breath.

"What is that?" Hermione asked, very confused.

"How could you possibly not know what The Tales of Beedle the Bard are?" Draco demanded in shock. Then, he remembered that she was Muggle-born. "Right, I forgot that you were raised incompetently –"

"Is this a quite popular… collection of books?" Hermione asked, choosing to his ignore his insult.

"Book," Draco corrected. "And yes."

"I'll go get it now –"

"Bloody hell, Granger, just sit down," Draco barked, reminding himself a lot of his father at that moment. Hermione had risen halfway out her chair, but slowly sat back down, looking him dead in the eye with a surprised, yet intrigued that he had taken control like that. "You went this long without knowing, a little longer isn't going to kill you."

Hermione rolled her eyes and picked up her fork again, toying with her food. "Why are you trying to help us?"

Draco looked up, replying with a tone that was as cold and solemn as ice. "I am not trying to help The Order."

"So, why are you trying to help me?" Hermione asked. When Draco didn't answer her, she came to her own conclusion. "You hate him just as much as we do."

Draco looked physically pained to speak. "Why the fuck shouldn't I? He's the whole reason I'm in this mess."

"I know," Hermione said softly. She twiddled her fork in between her fingers, deep in thought now. "If Voldemort asked you to join him again, would you?"

A flicker of astonishment that she could even ask such a question went over Draco's sharp features, resulting in Hermione bracing herself for the inevitable argument that was sure to follow. Draco half looked down at his food and looked back up at Hermione underneath his light lashes.

"I told you I hate him," he growled dangerously. "My father was in Azkaban for a year because of him. The whole reason why everyone thinks I'm dead is because _he_ gave me the mission to kill Dumbledore."

Hermione shuddered at hearing the words come out of Draco's mouth. The memory was still fresh in her mind, like a wound that wouldn't scab over. Draco put his fork down beside his plate, a sign showing that he was done eating. Done with the conversation. Done with her. Ever more so, he arose from the chair, making Hermione narrow her eyes.

"Don't do this, Draco," she said, rising to her feet as well. "Don't shut me out."

"Why would I tell you anything?" he snarled, brushing past her to beeline for his room.

"We were actually having a conversation –"

"A bloody stupid one if you ask me –"

"DRACO!" Hermione screamed from behind him. The scream stopped him dead in his tracks, making the hair on the back of his neck stand up. It was a sound he would never forget: mixed with anger and panic. Anger that he was being a prat, panic that he couldn't give her a straight answer. "Do not walk away from me like that!"

"You don't understand," Draco murmured, not wanting to turn around for fear of what he may see. "You never will understand what it's like."

"Maybe you should stop feeling sorry for yourself and actually do something about it!"

"What can I do!?" Draco roared, turning around to face her now. She was panting, her curly hair had come out of the bun she had woven it into. "In case you've forgotten, I am STUCK in this shithole!"

"There's nothing we can do about that right now!" Hermione yelled back. "You have got to start acting like an adult, Draco! Why do I need to go get a book? Why can't you tell me now?"

"You need to read it before you understand," Draco barked. "And I am acting like an adult! You would be this way if you were in my situation too!"

"No, I wouldn't be! I would be looking for ways to prepare myself, just like I am now –"

"Prepare yourself for what?" Draco narrowed his grey eyes. "The Ministry falling? A battle? A battle that you cannot win, Granger!" He felt his heart constricting at that thought of her being killed at the hands of a Death Eater, inevitably one of his family members. "Don't ask me to prepare for something that you cannot win!"

"What if we could win?" Hermione asked evenly. "You underestimate us –"

"No, you underestimate him!" Draco shouted, his hands in the air now. "You don't know what he is capable of! He has no remorse, his head is so fucked up, all he cares about is taking over, and you have got to see that!"

"Of course I see that!" Hermione barked. "I've been living this hell too, Draco, since he came back three years ago!"

"Three years ago was different," Draco groaned. "He has thousands of followers now, and you have students!"

"We have The Order –"

"Who has their own agendas, mark my words –?"

"HOW DARE YOU –"

Draco's stare caught Hermione off-guard to the point of snapping her mouth shut. It was the look of seriousness, like he had seen something that she had ignored long ago. Draco knew – as well as Hermione – that The Order, as good of people as they were, also had their own incentive for this battle. Even though they were protecting the innocent, there had to be more than just that. Hermione crossed her arms over her chest and peered at him through dainty eyelashes.

"What do you know that I don't?" she asked assertively.

"A lot, it's not that hard to outsmart you –"

"DRACO! This is important! If you know something I don't know about The Order now would be the time to tell me!"

"Like you would trust what I had to say anyway," Draco retorted. She made the fire arise in his chest again, warming his insides close to what hot chocolate did. For a moment, he couldn't get over how incredibly beautiful she looked: with her hair halfway out of its bun and his black shirt exposing one of her freckled shoulders. The way that she looked at him now made him feel so alive, yet so guilty. "Granger, look, don't you think it's odd that they've been keeping me around for this long?"

"No, they wanted to help you," Hermione said cautiously.

"Or they were betting that I would tell you what I didn't tell them," Draco told her, his tone driven now, almost fierce.

Realization dawned upon Hermione like a flame lighting touching a wick. She didn't say anything, just wet her dry lips from the yelling, and backed herself into the couch, sitting down slowly, and her hazel eyes still locked with Draco's. He noticed that she had visibly calmed down, so he took a few strides towards her and with great reluctance sat down next to her. His protective instinct was strong now. Salazar strike him down, if it was up to him, they wouldn't be in this situation at all. An odd idea came to him and he raised her eyebrows.

"We could leave."

Hermione turned to look at him in shock. "Leave? No, I can't, Draco. Harry and Ron –"

"I don't want you to be a part of this," Draco told her meaningfully. For the first time in a long time, it was something that didn't faze him or make him remember that he was truly a Slytherin. He meant every syllable; there was no doubt in his mind.

Hermione's eyes widened at his words. Maybe all the influence she had on him, from the arguing to the makeover to the living together was beginning to show. He cared for her now, and she saw it in his eyes. This time, there was no flicker of realization, no outburst, and just pure worry. It reminded her of the way Zac looked at her, yet more defined.

"I can't leave," she whispered, turning towards him. There was pain in her eyes and her heart that she hoped Draco could interpret. "I'm too far invested into this. You should understand that. I need to go get that book now…"

Draco didn't say anything as Hermione stood up and left the dorm. He found himself in his room not a few seconds later, petrified at the thought of losing her. The image of her dying as a green curse hit her in the chest played in his mind, and what was even more disturbing was that it was his father who cast it. Draco didn't feel the anger, just felt the wood that collided with his fist, the searing heat of the glass mirror breaking underneath his knuckles, and tingles that shot through his leg after he successfully kicked the dresser, leaving a gaping hole in the middle. He felt the leather covers of the books he threw under his fingertips and then the softness of the Egyptian cotton sheets as he ripped them seam from seam. He didn't stop until there were wooden splinters littering his bedroom floor, and his room was destroyed beyond recognition. It didn't soothe his temper, so he continued to destruct everything in his room, from the walls being dented to the curtains being torn off the rods and ripped into shreds.

Finally, he lowered himself onto the floor, every bit of his body throbbing with searing pain. His eyes were bloodshot from the splinters he had created, making his vision blurry as tears began to form. He rested his head against the front of his bed, running his fingers through his blonde hair and heaving air. Even after his rage-induced fit, he couldn't get the picture of Hermione, still as a statue, a smile on her face that was slowly fading, in a bright flash of green light. He followed that very light to the end of the black wand that belonged to his father, who had a look of pride in his grey eyes. Those grey eyes that reminded him so much of his own…

Draco had asked her to leave with him. It was a notion that he couldn't understand, similar to when he told Potter to get her to safety three years ago… At that exact moment, all he wanted to do was take her and run... as far away from Hogwarts as he could. The image of a small cottage on the sands of the sea looked like an ideal solitude. He could picture her walking along the sandy beach, the warm grains between her toes. Never had she looked so beautiful, in a long dress, her curls blowing in the breeze. She had someone beside her: a boy. A boy with hazel eyes and blonde hair…

A groan escaped Draco's lips as he clutched his hair. No… No… She was inferior. Her kind shouldn't be allowed to exist, let alone mate. Allowing another disgusted groan to escape his lips, he came to the conclusion that maybe Hermione was right: she was a person, a very real person, regardless of her blood-status. That meant that he, his family, had been brainwashed for generations from that evil creature preaching about eliminating Muggle-borns and half-bloods forever and having a race of pure-blooded wizards. Draco felt wetness sliding down his cheek, but he didn't even bother to wipe it away. If they had indeed been brainwashed, then he was redeemed, but his parents were not. The thought troubled him, knowing now what a great deal of danger that Hermione was in now. Somehow, it justified him wanting to touch her, to kiss her…

Draco didn't know how long he stayed against the bed, his head slumped back, and his hands still at the back of his head. It could've been minutes, it could've been hours. His thoughts swarmed in his head, too loud and ornery for him to notice much of anything else. He just didn't know what to believe or how to feel anymore.

* * *

Hermione walked through the corridors, using her wand to guide her way to McGonagall's office. She had passed a few students heading to their knitting's, but hadn't engaged in conversation. Draco had asked her to leave with him… She wasn't sure whether she should be afraid or flattered. Even as she rounded into the Headmistress' office, her mind was wandering far away where it shouldn't have been.

"May I help you, Miss Granger?" McGonagall asked, seeing the young witch in the doorway.

Hermione jumped a little at the sound of her voice, but steadied herself quickly. "Yes, Professor, I believe I may have some important information to tell you."

McGonagall took off her glasses. "Go ahead."

Hermione sat down in front of her desk and clasped her hands. "Draco and I were talking, and he believes he knows why Voldemort is after a new wand."

"I thought I made it very clear not to tell Draco anything –"

"He's been trying to help, Professor," Hermione interrupted her. On any other occasion, she would've apologized immediately, but not tonight. "He's told me about his father, about what happened from his point of view, even about Horcruxes. He was the one who told me that Gregorovitch was a wand maker and a Dark Magic advocate."

McGonagall sighed and looked at Hermione sternly. "Somehow, I knew that it would happen eventually."

"It's what you wanted, wasn't it?" Hermione asked, not knowing the words left her mouth until after she had spoken. McGonagall kept Hermione's gaze, not breaking it even when she spoke.

"Hermione, you must understand how great of an asset Draco is to The Order. Voldemort does not know he is alive, which we can use to our advantage," she explained.

"So this entire time you've been using me to get information out of him?" Hermione whispered, in shock that the people she was so close to used her, forced her to go through hell and a handbasket, just to get information.

"He is a very great asset, Hermione," McGonagall repeated. "Please try to understand. Now, why does Draco think Voldemort is after a new wand?"

"I need a copy of The Tales of Beedle the Bard," murmured Hermione.

"Whatever for?" McGonagall asked with her eyebrows raised.

"Draco said he needs it to show me," Hermione replied. McGonagall looked at her like she was the maddest person in the world, but regardless arose to her bookshelf and skimmed through the shelves until she found a copy of the children's book. When she handed it to Hermione, Hermione could barely contain her shock and surprise that it was stories made for children. How would that help them?

"It's curious, isn't it?" McGonagall asked. "I wonder what Mr. Malfoy is onto."

"I don't know," Hermione murmured absently, running her hand over the cover of the book. "Thank you, Professor."

Hermione turned and left the office, her hand still stroking the cover of the book. Either Draco was messing with her head again or there was something truly useful between these pages. Absently flipping through them, she didn't notice a black rush behind her. It looked out from beyond the corner of the hallway, watching her every move. When it was sure that Hermione was deep in her book and not going to turn around, a green rush of light soared through the air, aiming to hit her right in the back.

"PROTEGO!" yelled a familiar voice, and Hermione yelped as her waist was grabbed and she was pulled behind a wall. She saw the shield absorb the green light, a chill racing through her body. When she turned to see who had pulled her away, they moved her to the other side of them before blocking another curse.

"Zac! What the hell is going on?" Hermione gasped, watching him duck out of the way of a purple lit jinx. Hermione pulled her wand out and peeked out of the corner.

"No, don't, they're after you!" Zac pushed her back out of view and fired a jinx down the hallway.

"What? Who is after me?" Hermione demanded, her heart beating incredibly fast in her chest. Zac backed out of the hallway and faced her with his back against the wall.

"I don't know," came his truthful response. His baby blue eyes were full of contempt and confidence. "Have you noticed anything unusual lately? Anyone been following you?"

Hermione thought for a moment. "Yes, I thought someone was following me, but it turned out to be nothing."

"Obviously that's not the case," Zac muttered as another spell hit the wall to their left. He reached his arm out and shot another jinx that hit the wall behind the mysterious figure. "You need to get out of here."

"I'm not leaving, Zac!" Hermione insisted. "Where's the staff? Someone should've heard this by now!"

"No idea," Zac replied and shot a Body-Blind Curse at the figure. Luckily enough for him, the curse hit the figure in the chest and it toppled backwards. Heaving a sigh of relief and hearing footsteps along the corridor, Zac straightened himself up and began moving out into the hallway. "C'mon, it's safe now."

Hermione followed him, their wands still bared, making their way towards the hooded figure. Their hood was pointed at the top, and their robes dark black. Hermione's heart jumped when she realized it was a Death Eater. Their mask was still upon their face, staring up at them with a shiny metallic grace. Zac and Hermione exchanged a look as Professor McGonagall, Professor Snape, and Professor Flitwick came from different directions.

"What have we here?" Snape asked softly, his gaze falling onto the stunned body on the floor.

"Oh my Lord," McGonagall covered her heart with her hand. "Hermione, Zacharius, you aren't hurt, are you?"

"No, ma'am," Zac replied. "Is this a Death Eater then?"

"It appears so," Flitwick chimed, holding his wand to the figure on the floor.

"Let's take a look and see who our friend is," Snape said, his tone a mere whisper. With a flick of his wand, the mask whisped away to reveal a very feminine face: solid in features because of the curse, yet easily recognizable that upon seeing her, Hermione was sick to her stomach.

"Parkinson," Zac said sourly, kneeling down beside her.

"What happened?" Flitwick asked the Head Boy.

"Hermione was walking down the hall, and I was coming around the corner. I saw a flash of green light, and Parkinson at the end of the hallway. I casted a shield charm and got Hermione out the way. We shot a few spells back and forth, and she seemed to only be aiming for Hermione," explained Zac. "Now, Hermione did say that she thought someone was following her."

McGonagall looked from Pansy to Hermione. "Why didn't you tell me, Miss Granger?"

"I thought it was nothing, Professor," Hermione replied sheepishly.

"You are lucky Smith was here, Granger," Snape told her curtly. Hermione looked to the ground, still clutching the children's book in her hands. "Obviously Ms. Parkinson was intent on killing you."

"Yes, but why?" Hermione asked, staring down at Pansy's frozen face.

"Many reasons, mainly because you are Muggle-born and a member of The Order," McGonagall replied, casting a glance at Snape. "She must've snuck in through one of the secret passages. Severus, see to it that they are all blocked off. Also, extend the wards and strengthen them. We can't allow an incident like this to happen again."

"What do you want us to do with Miss Parkinson?" asked Flitwick.

"I will handle that. Please escort Hermione back to her dorm, Mr. Smith," McGonagall ordered.

Zac put a hand on Hermione's back, leading her back down the hallway, wand still clenched in his right hand. As soon as they were out of earshot from the Proffessors, he looked at her, worry in his eyes.

"Thank you for saving my life," Hermione said quietly.

"Don't mention it," Zac shrugged, like his actions were something he did every day. "I just worry about you. You're not even safe here anymore."

"No, I'm fine. McGonagall is taking the right precautions," said Hermione.

"They're not letting Muggle-borns come back after the Holidays," Zac told Hermione, to which she only sighed. "Are you staying here?"

"I'm assuming so since no one informed me otherwise," she said softly. They came up on her dorm, and she turned to look at Zac. "I'm sorry I've been so rude to you lately, Zac, I've just got so much on my plate with the boys, the D.A. –"

"Hermione," Zac took her left hand, the one not gripping the book. His eyes were warm and inviting, almost to the point of which Hermione wanted to stay with him. "It's okay. You don't have to apologize because I just saved your life."

"I do, though, it was awfully brave," Hermione confessed, smiling a little. "Thank you. I'm not used to being, uhm, saved."

Zac chuckled. "Go get some sleep. I'll come get you tomorrow morning before class."

"Okay," Hermione agreed and mumured the password for to unlock her dorm door as soon as Zac was around the corner. Even with her heart beating a million miles an hour, she managed to slip inside, where she knew she was safe. But, her blonde counterpart was no where to be seen. "Draco?"

Draco hadn't heard her come in. He was so wrapped up in his thoughts that he didn't even see her. When she found him, he was slumped against his bed, overcome with his thoughts and emotions that he didn't know how to control. Hermione's eyes were wide anguish and worry when she saw Draco against his bed and the room around him torn into pieces. So much had happened tonight that her chest was physically strained, but she knelt in front of Draco, pushing his blonde hair from his forehead. Her concern for his well-being had come quite naturally for her, even as she could've just been killed not ten minutes prior. Hermione's hands drifted to his cheeks, turning him to face her, and he met her eyes.

"What happened?" she asked softly.

"I don't know," he mumbled, looking around him to the mess he had created. Hermione had taken out her wand and began to drift things back into place, mending the objects he had destroyed. There was something very ironic about it, and he couldn't quite put his finger on what it was. He watched her as she did so, studying her face, seeing that she herself was just as struck as he was.

"Draco," Hermione whispered, leaning down in front of him once again. The room was tidy now, as though his tempter tantrum never happened. "I need to talk to you about something."

"What, Granger?" he asked, allowing her to pull him onto his bed. They sat opposite one another, Hermione's eyes wide and scared. "What happened?"

"Pansy tried to kill me," Hermione whispered, still not all convinced that the events of ten minutes ago occurred.

"Pansy Parkinson?" Draco asked, his heart skipping a beat. "Why?"

"She left over a month ago, Draco, with almost all the seventh year Slytherins," Hermione told him, her hands weaving around one another in her lap. "She was stalking me, I was just to naiive to realize it."

"Do you think she knows about me being here?" Draco asked, his eyes narrow.

"No," Hermione replied. "But, she was trying to kill me whether that be on her own accord or by someone else's. She was dressed as a Death Eater."

Draco's eyes went from narrow to wide. "Pansy was?"

"Yes."

"Fuck," he mumbled, adverting his gaze away from her. "I just… don't know what to say."

"It's fine," Hermione said softly, purposefully not mentioning how Zac had saved her life, realizing it wouldn't have been a good idea with the current situation on both their sides. "I brought you that book."

Draco's eyes glanced up and over to the book behind her. He grabbed it off of the sheets and began to page through it. "Here."

Hermione, interested in what he had to show her, leaned over to him, where he was pointing to the beginning of a story.

" _The Tale of the Three Brothers,"_ Hermione mumured, running her fingers over the page. "That's what you wanted to show me?"

"I'm going to read it to you," Draco replied, his eyes warning Hermione not to question his logic. "Pay attention, Granger. This will change everything."


	13. Chapter 13

_Hey guys! I have a really bad habit of updating in the middle of the night, so hopefully this one won't send you a notification at 2am! :P As always, read and REVIEW. I would love to hear from you! Since Pansy tried to kill Hermione, the plot is getting deeper and darker. It's also going to get a lot sexier. Ooo lala._

Chapter 13: Remembrance

"The Elder Wand?" Hermione's lips moved slowly. "Voldemort is after The Elder Wand?"

Draco closed the book with a thud, staring deeply into her hazel eyes. "It's the only thing that makes sense."

Hermione's eyes wandered around his room, her brain waves functioning a million miles an hour. She turned to meet Draco's gaze again, her lips halfway parted. "Where is The Elder Wand now?"

"I don't know," Draco replied, and set the book on his bedside table.

"I need to tell Tonks, McGonagall, they need to know –"

"Granger, just wait a second," Draco barked. "You do realize that you were almost killed an hour ago, right?"

"Yes," Hermione said nonchalantly. "But, I wasn't, and this is obviously more important."

Draco uttered a growl as Hermione pushed herself off of his bed. His grey eyes followed her as she walked through their Common Room to her room, and he found himself following her, just as he always did. He stopped in the kitchen, pulling out two mugs, and began to make hot chocolate. He had already decided that he wasn't going to allow her to leave the dorm until morning came and she had to go to her classes. In admiration of her and her ability to push things like almost certain death aside, he wished he could have the same bravery she did. When the hot chocolate was done, he took both mugs and approached her room to see her sitting on her window seat, staring out into the darkness.

Draco's cravings for Hermione were growing almost unbearable now, the images of her being safe and uninvolved in this war clouding his vision. Maybe in here, they could escape. Of course, it wasn't for forever, and the war would inevitably come eventually, but for the time being, they were safe in here. He sat beside her, thankful that she was taking a moment to breathe. He offered her a mug of hot chocolate which she took immediately.

"Thank you," she murmured and brought the hot drink to her lips. "I just can't believe that Pansy almost killed me."

"Yeah, it's about time you process that," he muttered, taking a sip of the drink himself. Even Draco himself didn't know how to process such an event, let alone help her do so.

"I still have to tell McGonagall –"

"No, that can wait until morning," Draco told her assertively. Hermione meagerly looked up at him from her cup, fiddling with the handle.

"Draco, what if he gets the wand?"

"Then we're all royally fucked," he replied. He had never seen Hermione so bland, so plain. Her eyes stared out the window into the night, tracing patterns over the windows outside that bore lights, looking for anything to take her mind off of the inevitable.

"I have to get word to Harry and Ron –"

"You know what you bloody issue is, Granger? You're always thinking of what you have to do, not what you need to do," Draco told her accusingly, with his eyebrows raised. She turned to face him, her sad hazel eyes on his grey ones. Now that he had her attention, he planned to take advantage of it.

"What do I need to do then, Draco?"

"You _need_ to go to sleep," he told her. "Everything else can wait until morning."

"Draco, what if Voldemort gets his hands on the wand _tonight?_ What if he knows where it is and it's just taken us this long to catch up with him?" Hermione practically whined.

"There's still nothing you could do because I doubt you know where he is," Draco replied, raising an eyebrow. "Don't try to argue with me, Granger. You aren't leaving this dorm tonight, and I will make sure of that."

Hermione's heart warmed as he spoke, shielding her from the events that had just happened. Vaguely, she wondered how Draco was handling that his ex-lover had almost killed her, but chose not to ask. Instead, she unknowingly scooted herself closer to him, carefully leaning her head against his shoulder. Draco glanced down at her soft curls tickling the skin on his neck, but didn't move her. If this was what she needed, so be it. For a moment, the two sat on the window seat, staring out into the black nothingness. Hermione's eyes landed on The Black Lake, where she remembered being submerged her fourth year. The feeling she was feeling now was quite similar.

Draco snaked his arm around her shoulders, bringing her closer to him. Hermione nuzzled herself into the side of his chest, closing her eyes and allowing a safe relief to wash over her. She was surprised that Draco hadn't pushed her away already but decided to take it with a grain of salt and let the peace ensue. Never before had she felt so safe, so taken out of the world than she did now. Even after all the arguments, the fights, the names, he was here now…

"Did you give her hell?" Draco asked half-heartedly, leaning his mouth to brush the top of Hermione's curls, inhaling coconuts and orchids. The scent nearly intoxicated him, and he closed his grey eyes.

"She got what was coming to her," Hermione whispered into his chest. Draco shifted his arm, realizing it was falling asleep.

"This is bloody uncomfortable," he muttered. Hermione's eyes snapped open, feeling another heated argument coming on. However, none ensued, but Draco removed his arm from around her shoulders, and straightened himself up.

Hermione, now properly tired and exhausted, scooted from her window seat to her bed, snuggling on the covers. Draco eyed her carefully, before realizing that his body would fit next to hers very well. Even then, his sub conscious began to remind him of his usual hatred for her, her kind, everything she stood for. So, he just watched as she pulled herself into a comfortable position.

"Will you stay?" she asked him softly, so soft that he almost didn't hear her.

All of his common sense told him not too, that it wasn't appropriate, but his heart told him something different. His ex-girlfriend, the girl he thought he'd known so well, had just attempted murder on her. It did a number on his psyche, truly forcing him to wonder what side he was really on. In this moment, however, nothing could penetrate these walls. Pansy couldn't see him, McGonagall would never know, if he just slid into bed next to her. Even his parents, who long presumed he was dead, would never find out about such an event.

Cursing himself inwardly, Draco moved himself from the window seat and laid down beside her in her bed. It was surprisingly comfortable, warm, and smelled of the ever lasing orchids and coconuts, of Hermione. He purposefully made distance between the two, hoping that would ease his longing for her and drive away the thoughts of her inferiority. Draco was convinced that the moment he got out of this prison, his feelings for her would subside, and he would look back on this as a remedy to the screwing with his mind The Order had been doing. It was an act of pure desperation.

Hermione never turned to face him, and he never turned to face her. He listened to her breaths until they became slow and even, telling him that she had fallen asleep. So many times, he had realized that he had listened to her fall asleep, to make sure that she was safe. Even now, more so. Draco didn't know how long he spent looking up at the black ceiling, watching the moonlight reflect off the tides of The Black Lake, casting glows on the tile. It was a much better atmosphere than his room, and in an odd way, reminded him of home.

* * *

Draco became vaguely aware of the knocking on the dorm door as he opened his eyes to the annoying sound. It was definitely morning: the warm rays of sunlight were streaming through Hermione's window, falling onto their limp forms, covering them like a blanket. He blinked a few times, realizing that he wasn't in his own room for a moment and a wave of panic rushed over him until he realized what had happened last night. The left side of his face was emerged in Hermione's curls, and his arm wrapped around her waist. She was pulled tight against him, and he decided that the feeling of her body against his was a wonderful and delicate pleasure.

The knocking continued, and Draco scowled. He almost had half a mind to march up the door himself and tell them to sod off. Hermione was stirring awake now, and he took a moment to watch her petite features come to life. Her hazel eyes opened, with a bit of surprise, then her soft lips formed into a small smile. Draco secretly decided that waking up to her was the most delightful thing he had experienced in his months in solitude.

He contemplated whether or not he should touch her or move his arm, but he did neither as the irritating knocking continued. Hermione noticed it then, and pulled herself up into a sitting position, stretching. Draco noticed she still wore his black shirt, and somehow, it created a possessive swirl in the pit of his stomach. After all, she had worn it last night when she had retrieved the book from McGonagall and almost gotten killed. A thought in the back of his mind panged: What if Pansy noticed that it was his? Had she noticed the smell of peppermint and Slytherin? Had McGonagall? Suddenly, this all became much too risky.

 _Knock, Knock, Knock…_

"I wonder who that could be," Hermione whispered, pushing herself out of her bed and disappearing into her closet.

"I have the right mind to give them a dose of my fucking fist," Draco muttered, burying himself back in the pillows, less than comfortable now that she had left the bed.

His eyes secretly watched her as she pulled his black shirt over her head, reviling the daintiness of her back, and then as she pulled off her leggings and panties in one quick swoop. He had barely time to focus his eyes before she was dressed again, in her school attire: a black skirt, black tights, and she had pulled a Gryffindor sweater overtop of her white shirt. As she emerged from the closet, she was gathering her curls into a messy bun, which she always did so well.

He listened as she left the room, and trotted across the kitchen to the door. He heard her open it, and then a male voice. Suddenly, his ears perked: he knew that voice. It was that prat, Zacharias Smith. The possessive rage swirled in his abdomen again as he pulled himself out of Hermione's bed, and peeked out of the door to see his ugly face, his blonde hair, his blue eyes. Hermione was smiling at him, and that alone made Draco want to march out there and deck him right in the face. After all, he had told her that was what he was planning to do…

"Are you sure you're alright? After last night, we can't be too cautious…"

"I'm fine, Zac, really," Hermione told him. "I feel a lot better after getting some sleep."

 _Sleep that wouldn't have happened if I hadn't made you_ , Draco thought angrily.

"Okay, well, class starts in fifteen minutes. I'll see you down at Slughorn's, then we have to go talk to McGonagall about the ball," Zac said.

"I'll meet you there," Hermione nodded and closed the door. She could feel Draco's eyes on her back, just like the last time Zac had come and visited her. She turned around and locked his eyes as she made her way back to her room. "I hate it when you do that."

"Do what? Eavesdrop on your bloody conversations with that prick?" Draco demanded, his tone cool and accusing.

"Be out in the open like that," Hermione corrected him and began to gather her books off of the floor and dresser. "What if someone sees you?"

"I want him to see me, maybe then he'll leave you the hell alone," Draco snarled.

Hermione's eyebrows raised as she locked his stare again. "You're jealous of him?"

"No," Draco stated plainly.

"Then why do you care?" Hermione asked.

"Sod off, Granger, I'm not in the mood for this right now," Draco growled and exited her room. He didn't have to deal with this, with her, with him… He shouldn't have even been feeling the slight bit possessive over her, but he did, and he didn't know how to deal with it.

"Draco, wait!" Hermione darted after him, forever fulfilling their game of cat and mouse.

But, Draco didn't wait for her. He strode into his room and slammed the door behind him only to hear her open it again. Half-tempted to throw everything around again and destroy it, he didn't, only because Hermione was standing in his doorway again.

"I thought I told you to sod off," he muttered from over his shoulder.

"We need to discuss this!"

"We don't need to discuss anything."

"Then what was last night?" Hermione demanded, her voice pleading now. It made him feel that slight creep of guilt come up into his throat, but he didn't break his stance.

"Last night was nothing. It was desperation for company –"

"So, you stayed because you were desperate, not because I had just almost been killed?!"

"That's right! I blame it on you fucking with my head, thinking that I could possibly be…"

"Be what, Draco!?" Hermione's tone was impatient, frustrated. And for the first time, he didn't want to turn around to see the fire caused by him in her hazel eyes.

"Nothing, obviously!" Draco yelled, his hands balling into fists at his sides. "Go! You need to get to your stupid class with Smith anyway!"

"Draco, it's not like that between Zac and I –"

"Why should I even care?" Draco spat.

"You're being ridiculous, Draco! You're not thinking straight!"

"Oh, she's finally catching on! Do you want a medal or something?" Draco sneered.

Hermione didn't move, but he could practically hear her hisses coming from her lips. She was steaming mad now, mirroring Draco's anger towards her, towards that prick that had woke them up… Desperately, he wanted to believe that she wasn't romantically involved with Smith, but he was a man after all, and he knew the signs of when a man liked a woman. The way Smith looked at her made him want to vomit. It was the way Draco looked at her when Hermione wasn't looking.

"I'm leaving now," Hermione said plainly, turning on her heel and exiting Draco's room, leaving him alone and vulnerable.

Damn his feelings, damn this place, damn everything. Draco listened to her leave, feeling the least bit of resentment towards her as he walked back out into the Common Room. The air still smelled of orchids and coconuts, and it relaxed him. After all, he was familiar with that type of intoxication. Whatever his feelings were, he needed to figure them out and fast before his attraction to his Muggle-born companion became deadly.

* * *

After a long day of classes and ignoring Zac's advances towards her, Hermione told McGonagall about Draco's suspicions. McGonagall seemed to have already thought of the possibility of Voldemort searching for an all-powerful wand, and assured her that there was no such thing, as it was only folklore. Though she appreciated Draco's attempt to help them, McGonagall guaranteed Hermione that there was nothing to be worried about in that department. Regardless, Hermione had insisted upon meeting with Tonks and Remus, just to be cautious. McGonagall reluctantly agreed, even though the couple were in Hogsmead on Auror and Order business. Hermione got her way, however, and would meet with them that weekend.

With the upcoming Christmas Ball, the two Heads had decided on having in mid-December to help with getting the younger students and Muggle-Borns home for the holidays without a fuss. They were planning relentlessly now, with the deadline only a few weeks away.

With so much on her mind, Hermione needed to get away from it all. From Hogwarts, from the Order, from Draco… She found herself out on the grounds, overlooking Hagrid' hut, staring at the Forbidden Forest. The air outside was cool, and nipped at her skin. She pulled her scarf around her neck tighter, and sat down with her back against one of the tall stone pillars marking the path of the grounds.

The sky was stunning: a rainbow of pinks, purples, and blues. The sun had gradually began its descent amongst the clouds, and Hermione watched as the orb lowered itself down. Realizing how cold it was, Hermione cast a warming charm around herself, and pulled her knees to her chest.

Draco had stayed with her last night. The feeling itself was an odd concept to grasp, just as her nearly being killed if it wasn't for Zac stepping in. Thinking of how content she had been in his arms last night, tears began to form in her eyes. They threatened to fall if it wasn't for her hand wiping them away as quickly as they manifested. He had sought to protect her from whatever was out there hunting her, and he had, even if it was only for that one night.

Hermione had to realize the reality of their situation, though. Because of the way he had become jealous of Zac this morning, she conquered that he felt something towards her, and he didn't think that her blood-status had anything to do with those feelings anymore. But, when she had almost broke down this morning at trying to convince him that Zac and her were nothing other than friends, she had revealed something a lot more telling: she had feelings for him as well. Scared and baffled by her emotions towards Draco, she remembered the last time she felt this way was during Ron's relationship with Lavender Brown last year. Knowing all too well what happened when she felt that way, she shut it down quickly, but not before wondering if the reason she was growing attracted to Draco was because he was slowly feeling the gaping hole Harry and Ron had torn in her life when they had left.

"Hermione, fancy seeing you here," Ginny dropped down beside her. Hermione was too lost in her thoughts to notice her footsteps approaching or even watch her sit on her bum next to her.

"Hi, Ginny, why are you out so late?" Hermione asked softly, wiping away the last of her threatening tears.

"Just needed to get away," Ginny shrugged, staring off into the sky. "I'm guessing you too?"

"Yeah."

"I heard about what happened last night," Ginny said comfortingly and put her arm around Hermione's shoulders. "It'll be okay. McGonagall is taking every precaution."

"I know, Ginny," Hermione whispered, staring down at Hagrid's hut sadly.

"That's not why you're here, is it?" Ginny asked, now knowing full well that there was something else on Hermione's mind besides last night's perils events. Hermione didn't answer because she didn't know how too. "You've been happier lately, you know, and we've noticed it."

"Really? Nothing has changed," Hermione said dismissively.

"I don't think that's true," Ginny told her friend gently. "Your cheeks are flushed now, and your eyes sparkle. I think it's the true you coming out again."

"Thanks," Hermione whispered, not knowing how to respond without giving the obvious away.

"This War will change a lot of things, Hermione, but try not to let it change you," Ginny said, giving Hermione's shoulder a squeeze. "People become cold and bitter during War, but you have the ability to push all of that aside and just … be happy."

"I'm trying," Hermione murmured weakly.

"I know, and it's shown," Ginny said. "You're a strong girl, and I admire you more than you realize. A lot of people do. We all appreciate what you do for all of us."

At that moment, that was what Hermione needed to hear. She leaned her head on Ginny's shoulder as the two girls sat on top of the hill and watched the sunset together. Even after all of the happenings with Draco, Ginny was the most real thing that reminded her of how life should be. She was the only thing connecting Hermione with her dear friends, and knew if anything were to happen to them, Ginny would be the one to help keep her straight. Desperately, she just wanted to tell her about Draco, about her feelings for him, but she couldn't. Until the time was right, if the time was ever right, she would play it off as feelings for Zac or her miss for the boys. In a parallel universe, maybe she and Draco's relationship would be accepted. But, never in this one.

* * *

For five days, Draco avoided her at all costs. He would wake up in the mornings before Hermione did, listening to her sing and threatening him to fall back asleep, but he never did. He listened to her leave, and the moment she did, he would shower, cook himself something to eat (he was really getting the hang of not using magic), and then retreat back to his room where he would immerse himself in a book or parchment. Since she hadn't come to seek him out, yet her routine was nearly the same, he supposed she was doing the same as he was. A part of Draco was fine with that, if it wasn't for the fact that his walls were beginning to close in again, and the part of him that longed for her was beginning to drive him crazy.

It was a longing for companionship, for some type of interaction with her. Even if it was a small knock on his door. Her singing in the mornings were the only thing keeping him from hurling everything in his room around again, since his pride was too big to allow him to go out and tell her how much he wanted her, needed her.

Even today, on the fifth day, he sat on his bed and waited for his door to open, for her to check on him. But, she didn't. Draco kept looking at the clock, desperately waiting for even her footfalls to walk past his door, but no such sound came to his ears. He knew she was awake from the rustling around in their Common Area, and decided it was finally time to let her have an earful. Maybe it was his brain being forced into overdrive or just that he needed something to cure his boredom. He settled on that, because if he admitted to himself that he needed to see her, it would damage his psyche beyond a reasonable repair.

Draco bounded off of his bed, and with a force strong enough to push mountains, he thrust open his bedroom door to see Hermione sitting in her chair, _The Tales of Beedle the Bard_ in her hands. She jumped when he opened the door, and he had taken pride in her doing so. Served her right, ignoring him like that… Without so much as looking at her, he strode into the bathroom where he kept glancing over his shoulder to see if she was watching him. When he looked, she was always reading her book, but when his eyes were forward, he felt her hazels burning into his back. He showered, not bothering to close the door all the way, half hoping she would follow him in like had with her. But, she didn't. It was then that Draco realized that she had just as much pride as he did.

He left the shower with a towel around his waist, hoping to catch her attention that way, but she didn't bother to look up from her book. He even let it fall to his hips, but she never even glanced up. Draco was almost to his breaking point now, although just seeing her made him feel less constricted. He walked over to a clean laundry bin and selected his usual black on black. The thought of dropping his towel in front of her to get her to notice him was beginning to look better and better, but he couldn't allow her to see him that way, so he changed in the bathroom. After he looked like his normal self, he went back out into the Common Room, attempting to grab her attention by walking past her. But, she ignored him.

Fuming now, he stopped in front of her and tapped his foot, his arms crossed.

"Yes, Draco?" Hermione asked dismissively, like not seeing him in five days hadn't affected her in any way. Draco was both relieved and hurt at her reaction.

"What are you doing?" he asked, desperately trying to make conversation. Her voice soothed his aching nerves.

"Re-reading this," came her reply, once again, short and to the point.

"Uh-huh," Draco said and sat down on the couch.

"What did you need?" she asked him.

"Nothing."

"Then why are you out here? Shouldn't you be sulking in your room?"

Draco's mouth twitched at her response. The old her was breaking through bit by bit. "I had to come out eventually."

"I thought you preferred it in there."

"I do."

"You're being condescending again," she murmured, turning the page of the book.

"Why are you re-reading that?" he demanded, leaning back against the back of the couch.

"I'm going to Hogsmead tomorrow night to discuss it," she answered, and Draco saw her eyes skimming back and forth behind the cover of the book.

Jealousy began to arise in the pit of Draco's stomach at her statement. Last time, she had went with Smith. "Who with?"

Hermione's eyes looked up at him over the cover of the book. Tingles ran up and down his spine as their eyes met, and he titled his head only slightly, seeing only innocence in the beautiful hazel eyes of his roommate. Oh, how he missed those eyes…

"No one but myself," Hermione answered and her eyes drifted back down to the inky pages of the book she held. Draco nodded his head once.

The pair sat there in silence for quite some time before Hermione put down her book and walked to the kitchen. Draco's eyes followed her hungrily, almost greedily, and then he found himself arising as well. She noticed, noticed the change in his footfalls as he caught up to her, and noticed her back against the counter as he drew closer. Merlin, how she missed this… But, mostly, she missed the ravenous butterflies that cursed her stomach every time he was within close proximity to her. Was it possible that he missed her as much as she had missed him?

Draco reached above her to grab hot chocolate, but was careful not to touch her. He was within a few centimeters of her, and it felt bloody amazing, just to be this close without her shoving him away or yelling at him. His arms framed her face as he grabbed the box, and then he studied her face as he set it beside her. But, she didn't react, just continued to stand, watching him make his drink. She merely looked over her shoulder as he did so, studying him to no avail. Draco hadn't planned to give the hot chocolate he was making to her, but he was tired of being shut away in his room, and he was almost certain that she was too. So, as a peace offering of some kind, of which he wasn't sure at all, he handed her the mug. She took it and looked up to him, their eyes meeting again. No words were exchanged, and none had to be. There was a mutual understanding between the two of them, that they were no longer attempting to avoid one another, and things could go back to normal…

Whatever normal was.


	14. Chapter 14

_Happy Memorial Day Weekend, everyone! Mine will be filled with working, but have yourself a nice beer and relax on a boat for me, okay? :D I'm almost to 3,000 views, and I want to hit that before tomorrow. And at least 15 reviews! Cmon peeps, leave it in the box below! :D This chapter we're going to learn a little more about Zac's past, and also the politics of the Ministry and how it's being shaken._

Chapter 14: Tonks

Hermione rummaged in her closet for something to wear. The air was still chilly and the sky grey, making her journey to Hogsmead a cold one. She decided on jeans and a button-up shirt with a tshirt underneath, ankle high boots, and then a jacket over top. As she stood in front of her mirror, she toyed with her hair until it looked halfway decent and then emerged into the Common Room where Draco was nowhere to be found. Even though they didn't speak much the night before, she still wanted to bid him farewell. Sighing, she approached his door, but hesitated when she almost knocked. The door swung open in that brief moment, and Draco peered down at her with intense grey eyes.

"Do you need something, Granger?" he demanded.

Hermione pressed her lips together. "I was on my way out and I just wanted to say goodbye."

"Okay, you've said goodbye, now go," Draco said. There was a flicker of anger that passed over his eyes, which she didn't understand because of their actions the previous night. All too well, though, Hermione knew not to get her hopes up when it came to him. When Draco saw the ashamed look on her face, he rolled his eyes. "I don't know what you were expecting, Granger. I'm not going to beg you to stay."

"I didn't expect you too," Hermione mumbled, even though it would have been nice. "I just didn't expect you to be this angry about me leaving."

He didn't know why he was either, especially since this time, she wasn't leaving with that prick. Draco's mouth clenched. "I'm not angry with you, you told me last night you were leaving so I expected you to just leave."

"It's polite to let you know –"

"Whatever, you've made your point," Draco said. He went to close his door, but Hermione put her foot in front of it. "What now?!"

"Why do you have to act like this? You're so incredibly bipolar!" Hermione cried, losing her temper towards the Slytherin bit by bit. Draco's eyes narrowed. "One minute, you're telling me that I am inferior to you, the next minute you're in my bed with me, and the next you're sulking in your room feeling sorry for yourself!"

"You're not that great either, you know!" Draco shouted back. "You also ignored me for five days, may I remind you!"

"I didn't think you wanted to be bothered! It's called being polite and respectful of the other person, something you obviously are oblivious too!" Hermione was shaking where she stood now, her hands clenched into fists and her hazel eyes wide with detest.

"I'm surprised you are, being raised by Muggles," Draco snarled, knowing that the comment would only instigate the situation further. Hermione drew back, taking a few steps behind her. The guilt crept up in this throat again, but he didn't back down. "I have no reason to be polite or respectful of you until you've given me a reason, and for the past seven years, you've given me no reason!"

Hermione's eyes widened to their full extent. "I've given you no reason!? Draco, I have done so much for you –"

"Have you, or do you _think_ you have in order to indulge your fantasies about changing me?" Draco asked almost calmly, leading to Hermione smacking him across his face. Taking a moment to recover, he grabbed her wrist, bringing her close to him now. "Don't you ever fucking do that again."

"Just when I think that maybe you've changed and seen the light, you give me every reason to hate you again," Hermione whispered, now more hurt in her voice than contempt.

"You assume too much," Draco whispered back, their faces dangerously close.

"No, I don't think so."

There was a glimmer in her eyes, the same he had seen before he kissed her the first time. Draco's lips parted only slightly to rebuttal the argument, but nothing came out, due to him being transfixed in her features. Her eyes showed her Gryffindor courage and intelligence, leading Draco to believe that she truly knew how he felt. After all, Hermione was the complete opposite of an idiot. He felt Hermione's body close in on him, reminding him of the night he spent snuggled against her in her bed. His jaw clenched, closing his lips, and looked down at her, realizing that this could've been the moment of him lowering his defenses, of letting her in on him completely. He kissed her once before, so why would this time be any different?

Hermione's gentle breaths ticked his chin as she stood on her tip toes, and placed the hand his wrist was clutching on his cheek. Draco's eyes closed involuntarily, drinking her in, the warmth of her body, her scent, her very being. His whole body relaxed when his lips felt pressure of them: a soft and tingly pressure. Her lips. The doubts swarmed through Draco's mind, but for the first time, he shut them down, allowing her to continue to kiss him, and his lips gently pressed back. Hermione backed down after a few seconds, allowing Draco to regain his composure. As starstruck as he was, he found it in himself to let reason peak through her advances.

"This means nothing," he whispered, locking her eyes with his.

Hermione's eyes closed momentarily. "I know."

With those final words, she turned away from Draco and left the dorm without saying another word. As soon as she was gone and the door closed, Draco lowered himself onto the foot on his bed, and absently touched his fingers to his lips. They were still tingling, and his body still limp from their kiss. He laid back, staring up at the ceiling, and wondering if their kiss really meant nothing.

* * *

The walk to Hogsmead was cold and made Hermione's brain and heart hurt. In that exact moment, she had wanted to kiss Draco, and she did. He didn't pull away, he allowed her to reach up and touch his lips with hers. It was amazing feeling, but she knew, as well as he did, that it meant "nothing." The first time they had kissed, he had allowed her to loose herself within him and pressed into her like a fate-fearing man, and she was the only solid thing in his existence. This time had been different: Hermione had leaned into him without logic, and without reason. It was something she couldn't explain, but the kiss needed to happen. To end the argument? To show how much she truly cared about him? No, it was a very conscious decision on her part, _wanting_ to lean into him, wanting him to grab her wrist, wanting him to kiss her back… And he did.

As The Three Broomsticks came into view, Hermione bottled down her thoughts and feelings and put on the bravest face she could. Even though she was only meeting Remus and Tonks, she still felt the need to not worry them with her personal issues. She managed a smile as she walked through the door to the cavern, seeing Madam Rosemarta tending to some of the locals at the bar. She spied the couple near the back, sitting at a table with three butterbeers. She wasted no time walking up to the pair and wrapping her arms around Tonks, who she noticed had a bit of a bump.

"Hermione! Oh, it's been too long! How are you?" Tonks asked. Hermione squeezed Tonks' shoulders tightly and saw Remus smiling over her shoulder.

"I'm very good!" Hermione replied and pulled away. "Oh, Tonks! How far along?"

"Five months, give or take a bit," Tonks replied, sitting back down at the table. "So what did you want to tell us, Hermione? McGonagall made it sound extremely urgent."

Hermione sat down besider her and eyed Remus carefully. He knew that Draco was staying with her, but she did not know if Tonks knew. Remus, however, nodded knowingly, giving Hermione the okay to continue.

"We believe that Voldemort is after The Elder Wand," Hermione told them in a hushed tone, looking around her to make sure no one could hear.

Tonks' eyebrows raised. "The Elder Wand? As in the fairytale?"

"Alas, it so happens it is not a fairytale," Remus told them both. "The Deathly Hallows are a very real thing, and many people have sacrificed their lives in order to possess them."

"McGonagall thinks no such things exists," Hermione said slowly.

"She would have you believe that in order not to cause panic," Remus explained and leaned closer to her. "Hermione, what is the one thing Voldemort needs to become all-powerful? Exactly, an all-powerful wand. He cannot defeat Harry without it."

"Why is that?" Hermione asked.

"Their wands share a common core, unable to destroy one another," replied Remus. "Do you remember during The Triwizard Tournament when Harry dueled Voldemort? They were unable to kill one another. Even in the Department of Mysteries, the same thing happened."

Hermione's brain waves clicked into overdrive. "But, Dumbledore defeated Voldemort in the Department of Mysteries. Oh, my God."

Remus sat back in his chair as Hermione stiffened a gasp. "Now, you see?"

"Dumbledore has the Elder Wand," Hermione whispered.

Tonks looked to Remus. "Are you sure, Remus? That's an awful lot to put on a fairytale."

"I am almost certain, and if I'm not, you can tell me otherwise," Remus said with a kind smile in his wife's direction. "Did you come up with the theory or did someone else, someone who is say, closer to Voldemort, than you are?"

Tonks' gaze shifted back and forth between Remus and Hermione heavily, now very concerned about what the two were obviously hiding. "What are you talking about?"

"Hermione has had a house guest these past few months," Remus explained.

"Who?" Tonks demanded, now more curious than concerned.

"Malfoy," replied Hermione softly.

Tonks' mouth dropped subterranean. "Draco Malfoy? As in my prick of a cousin?"

Remus laughed. "Yes, the exact same."

"I thought he was dead!" Tonks exclaimed, a hand to her mouth now. "Has he deflected or…?"

"Not exactly," Hermione muttered. "It's… complicated…"

"Well, we have time," Tonks said, resting her chin in her palm and gazing at Hermione.

Hermione took a staggering breath before speaking. "He is adamant about not helping The Order, but he's given me a lot of valuable insight on Voldemort. When Harry and Ron sent me the letter with Ollivander and Gregorovich on it, he was the one who told me that Gregorovitch was a wand marker and was involved in Dark Magic, which led the D.A. to find that Ollivander is missing and still is. Then, he told me to get _The Tales of Beedle the Bard_ and explained The Deathly Hallows to me."

Tonks looked astonished, but Remus looked more impressed. "My cousin, who doesn't have an intelligent brain cell in his body, told you all of this?"

"I think he's a lot smarter than what people give him credit for," Hermione defended him weakly. "He really is brilliant when he wants to be."

"That's in my family tree," Tonks huffed. "The most noble and ancient house of Black is highly superior compared to the Malfoy's."

Remus chuckled. "Tonks, you give yourself too much credit. Draco also had influence from Severus and Hermione. There's a good chance that he is swaying more on our side. After all, he has just enough reason to hate Voldemort as anyone."

"He's still a prude," Tonks reasoned and sat back in her chair. "Hermione, if what you and Malfoy say is true, then what's our plan? We need to get word to Harry and Ron as quickly as possible."

"This does indeed complicate things," said Remus. "I will send word to the boys, but Hermione, you must be careful in the castle. It's not safe there anymore, not for you, not for anyone."

"We heard about Parkinson," Tonks nodded in agreement. "Hermione, you are doing just fine as you are. There's nothing to be worried about where The Order is concerned, trust us. The Ministry is holding for the time being, and Harry and Ron are down another Horcrux. Things are beginning to look up."

"Tonks is being optimistic," Remus shot his wife a look. "The Ministry will fall, and at that point, you will need to leave Hogwarts. I'm sure McGonagall has already explained that to you."

"Yes, she has," sighed Hermione. "I just wish there was more we could do."

"There's always something," Remus smiled softly at the young witch. "And Tonks is right, you are doing fine as you are. Keeping the panic out of Hogwarts is a huge task in itself. I hear you're organizing the ball this year?"

"Yes, but it's utterly pointless," Hermione shook her head, annoyed that they were getting off topic of the real matters.

"Maybe it's a good distraction," Tonks offered with a shrug. "Keep spirits up, you know? Who are you going with?"

"Zacharias Smith, but only because we have to go together," replied Hermione with a huff.

"Don't you like him?" Tonks asked with raised eyebrows.

"It's not that I don't, I mean, he saved my life," Hermione replied nervously. "It's just that he's so forthcoming and always pushing himself onto me, always asking me out, always looking out for me –"

"Zacharias' parents were members of the Order," Remus told Hermione. This spiked her attention greatly as she turned to listen to him. "His father died in the last Wizarding War, killed by Antoin Dolohov, I believe. Callum was a good man, a brave one. His mother, Annabelle, remarried an Auror named Tarquin Holmquest. He was raised to be a good man, and no doubt as brave as his father."

"I didn't know," Hermione whispered, finding a new respect for The Head Boy.

"I wouldn't have expected you too," Remus replied. "I'm sure he doesn't tell anyone. That's not something you really want people to know. But, my point is, Hermione, that you should be grateful for him saving your life. Anything else, is up to you. But, he would be a smart match. No doubt of essential use to us in this War."

"Remus is right, we need everyone we can get," Tonks agreed. "We'll look into The Elder Wand theory. If that's what Voldemort is after, we have to make sure that he doesn't get his hands on it."

"Thank you," Hermione said and smiled. "It was so good to see you both. When will you be here next?"

"We don't know, with the Ministry and the Order, we don't know where life will take us next," Tonks stood to give Hermione a hug. "We must be getting back, I'm afraid. Thank you for letting us know, and keep us informed. Don't let Malfoy push you around, alright?"

"Don't worry about that," Hermione mumbled into Tonks' shoulder with a half-hearted smile. "I miss you two already."

"Have fun at your ball, Hermione, we'll catch up soon," Remus shook her hand tightly. "Give Minerva and Severus my regards."

With a few more struggled good-bye's, and waves, Hermione followed the two Aurors out of the pub and into the road. They headed in their opposite directions. Hermione felt more towards Zac now, knowing that it wasn't just an exclusive few who lost their loved ones during the first Wizarding War. She trekked back up to Hogwarts, hands in her pockets, feeling the cool breeze against her cheeks and realizing that she really did hate the cold.

* * *

Hermione managed to get back to Hogwarts before curfew, sneaking through the halls to avoid being seen. She had her wand gripped in her right hand, just in case something happened, but nothing did. She slipped into her dorm quietly, noticing that it was fairly empty and quiet, with Draco nowhere to be seen. She looked around for a moment longer, until a figure appeared in the doorway of his bedroom. She narrowed her eyes, seeing that he had a very intense look in his eyes, something even possessive glinted through them. They grey shown in the darkness, and she found herself nervous as he stared at her.

"What are you doing?" Hermione demanded as he began to move towards her.

"Shut up," Draco said, striding over to her in long paces.

He grabbed her cheeks, and placed his lips upon hers, kissing her furiously, desperately. In the time she was away, he had questioned whether or not his longing for her was a reality, and had come to accept that it indeed was. Hermione was rigid against him for a few moments, and doubt hinted into his mind, but as quick as it was there, it was gone. He pulled his lips away from her soft ones, looking at her warily, ready for a smack or a punch, but she did the exact opposite. Before he knew it, her lips were on his again, breaths heavy and panting.

He held the back of her head, entwining his fingers in her curls, and pulling her closer as he deepened their kiss. She kissed back, roughly, nibbling on his bottom lip and her hands running through his blonde hair. Draco swallowed her groan as he shrugged her jacket off of her shoulders, hearing it thud behind them. It was then when he realized that his movements were almost ferocious, hoisting her legs around his waist and pushing her roughly into the door. She didn't seem to care, as her movements were equally as ferocious, pulling on his hair and pushing her body into him as much as she could. He melted into her, keeping her pressed against the door with the possessiveness that overtook him. Her fingers were trembling against his biceps, her legs shaking with anticipation.

Draco pressed himself against her, hard, resulting in a little moan from Hermione's lips, which he swallowed. His fingers ran over her shoulders, her neck, her chest, then set themselves in her hair again, pulling back just a little to expose her neck. His lips found their way there, kissing from her cheek to her jawline to a sensitive spot behind her ear that made her shivers intensify. Hermione's eyes closed as her head leaned back against the door, her trembling hands now gripping his shoulders to support herself. He toyed with her skin, suckling on it, to hope leave a mark in his lips' wake. He could feel her heartbeat quicken as he slammed her against the door again, jerking her hips into his.

"Stop," she murmured, but continued to pull on his hair as he licked the skin on her neck. "Draco…"

His name sounded so sweet rolling off her captivated tongue, and the pit of Draco's stomach began to flutter. He had no intention of stopping, however, he pulled his lips from her neck and brought them back to her lips, where she snatched a deep kiss from him. He pulled her from the door and began to walk them over to the couch, but halfway there, realized that he wanted to enjoy this, taking it slow. He carefully removed her plaid shirt from her shoulders, and was pleasantly surprised when she helped him to do so. His fingers ran up and down her arms, his lips pecking at hers, and moving down to her jaw, where he peppered kisses up and down it.

"Draco…" she murmured again, and it was enough for him to set her down on the couch and kneel in front of her, taking in her disoriented face. Both of their breaths were heavy now, with their chests heaving up and down. He looked at her eagerly, waiting for her to speak, but she didn't. He leaned forward to satisfy his cravings for her, and captured her lips in his.

Draco pulled himself between her legs, laying her down on the couch all while his hands explored her curves, pulling her into his body. She let out tiny little groans that made his stomach explode with tingles, and he was determined to never allow her to emit those groans to any other man. Draco pulled back his lips and stared at her contentedly, her fingers running through his hair and tracing onto his cheeks.

"You missed me," she whispered softly.

"No," Draco said, leaning his forehead against hers. "You annoy the piss out of me, why would I miss you?"

"I can tell," Hermione smiled and kissed his lips quickly.

"You're mistaken, Granger, I most certainly did not miss you," he replied, taking that their moment was over. He pulled himself up from between her legs and sat next to her on the couch, eyeing her as she did so as well.

"Did you like kissing me?" she asked him innocently, trailing her still trembling fingers up the side of his biceps. The shivers intensified, even after he was finished kissing her.

Draco thought for a moment. "It's like betraying everything I've ever grown up with knowing."

"I like kissing you," she offered and now she was drawing closer, as if he hadn't already given her enough… "And I think you are changing."

"You talk too much after you do shag guys, don't you?" Draco asked, his gaze now rough and accusing on her. Hermione blushed. "You just don't know when to shut up."

"I could say the same thing for you!" Hermione shot back and crossed her arms.

"A few kisses isn't going to change me, Granger," Draco said evenly, resting his forearms on his legs. "It's not going to change the way I think about you, or Muggle-borns, or the Order –"

"You didn't say Mudblood," Hermione whispered carefully, still not quite believing her ears.

"What?" Draco spat, not realizing that the vile word hadn't come out of his mouth. For a moment, he was speechless, not sure of how to react to her statement, so he didn't.

"See? That's a start –"

"Granger, just stop," Draco rose to his feet and looked down at her. "I am not changing, not for you, not for your bloody Order. Like I said, a few kisses that I was desperate enough to –"

"There you go with that desperate crap again," Hermione rolled her eyes and crossed her arms.

"What do you expect? Do you see any other women around this place –"

"So I'm convenient? The second you get out of here, you'll just go back to your old ways of hating me, huh? Forget about your 'desperate kisses'?" Hermione retorted, rising to her feet now. She stood up to him, and it shouldn't have made him so angry, but it did. "I'm not letting you mess with my heart like this!"

"Mess with your heart?" Draco roared, his words so cold that she found herself almost in tears. "Do you have any idea what you're doing to me, Granger? No, you don't, so just shut up and sod off!"

"Draco –"

"No, do not do that!" Draco yelled. "Don't try to get me to change my mind, it won't happen! Just leave me alone!"

Draco stole one last look Hermione, refusing to get lose in her beautiful eyes, before tearing himself away from her and stomping to his room. On his way, he eyed the loose pieces of clothes that were lying on the floor and a low growl emitted in the back of this throat. There was nothing he could do now, now that his realization was kicking in. If she had just let things be, maybe then he would've been able to get over his cravings for her and go back to hating her. As he slammed his door, something told him they would never go away and he would never go back to hating her.

Hermione struggled to regain her composure as she picked up her jacket and shirt off the ground and walked back into her room. She was messing with his heart? No, how could she be? If Draco truly didn't feel anything for her and still hated her… But, even that wasn't plausible anymore. She threw her belongings on the floor and realized that the kiss was everything she had wanted out of the past few months. Their tension was high, but maybe that very tension wasn't tension from anger. Regardless of what it was, she convinced herself it was over now, and slammed her door shut, hoping he heard it and it shook him as much as he shook her.


	15. Chapter 15

_Hey guys! First off, totally wanna apologize for not updating as frequently as I'd like too! I've been working my little butt off because we're going on vacation on the 14_ _th_ _, so trying to save up for that! Thanks for the awesome reviews, keep em comin! And as always, my love. (:_

Chapter 15:

Hermione went to class the next day as if nothing had ever happened. After a good night's sleep, and some relentless praying, she came to the conclusion that her feelings for Draco were irrelevant and could be shut down, just as she had shut down her feelings about missing Harry and Ron. Draco was just her roommate, and she intended for him to be just that. Her mind was now focused on her studies, something that she had let slide, which was most unlike her, and helping out her friends. She also found herself intrigued with Zac now that she knew about his parentage and the sacrifice his father had made. There was no doubt that he was most definitely on her side.

Hermione found herself staring at the back of Zac's head in Charms that afternoon with Flitwick, her chin in her hand, and her hazel eyes memorizing how the blonde layers of hair fell over the back of his head. Neville and Ginny sat to her right, but they hadn't noticed her intense staring. Luna, on the other hand, had.

"I quite like the way his hair falls, almost like waves," she whispered to Hermione. Taken aback, Hermione blinked a few times and turned to look at Luna, unsure of what to say. "Don't worry, Hermione. You don't have to say a word."

Hermione rolled her eyes back around to Zac's head, absently listening to Flitwick carry on about how to create magical barriers, only to be startled by Zac slowly turning his head around and meeting her eyes. Clearing her throat quickly, she looked away only to see Luna giggle softly.

"He's quite handsome."

"I know, Luna," Hermione muttered, Dean's comment about not leading men on playing back in her head.

As the rest of the hour rolled along, Hermione met Zac's eyes at least eight times, each time looking away quickly, clearing her throat, and seeing Luna watch them intensely. Her patience seemed to be growing, however, and by the time that class was dismissed, Zac caught up to her in the hallway to the north corridor.

"Hey," he greeted her with a smile.

"Hello," Hermione smiled back, not having to force herself for once.

"Flitwick's lectures are so boring, I could see why you were staring at the back of my head," Zac laughed, and Hermione sighed in embarrassment. "I'm kidding. Where are you off too?"

"The Great Hall. I was hoping we could begin setting up decorations. The ball is tomorrow," Hermione said as they rounded the corner and almost toppled into a group of first-years. Zac steadied a young girl, who thanked him, then skipped away.

"Sure," Zac agreed. He allowed her to lead him into the Great Hall, and looked around, hands crossed over his chest. "Blimey, it's so drab in here!"

Hermione looked around to the almost-gothic architecture, wondering how she was going to manage to make something so impressive into something Christmas-like. Sitting down at the table closest to her, she pulled out her wand and began to absently fiddle with it, causing magical snow to fall from the sky overhead. Zac looked up in confusion before offering her a smile.

"You're right, it hasn't snowed this year," he said and continued to look up at the sky. "I wonder why that is."

"It's not hard to guess," Hermione sighed and leaned back against the table. "I've always loved snow. We should make it fall constantly, even during the dancing."

"So a Winter Wonderland?" Zac winked at her.

Hermione blushed. "Sure. And maybe some drapes?"

"We could take the torches out," Zac flicked his wand and made the line of torches disappear. "Nah, we need some form of light."

"Well, we could have light emitting from ice," Hermione said and stood up. With a flick of her wand, the tables lining the Great Hall disappeared. She began to mold ice sculptures little by little while Zac tinted the many windows along the walls and behind the Professor's table with ice.

"That looks wonderful, Hermione," Zac exclaimed, staring at her sculptures against the walls. "That really brings out the feeling of a wonderland!"

"Thank you! What about a fountain?" Hermione asked, meeting Zac's blue eyes sheepishly.

"A fountain would be beautiful," Zac said softly as Hermione charmed the Professor's table into a fountain emitting water and soft rays of light. Combined with the snowflakes, it gave almost a hypnotizing look. The light coming down from the magical sky above them had turned the atmosphere grey, just as it was outside, yet something was more relaxing and real about this shade.

"There," Hermione said. "We just need some trees now."

"I'll handle that," Zac said and disappeared out the door. A few minutes later he came back, levitating about twenty-five trees behind him. When Hermione raised an eyebrow, Zac replied, "Gotta use your resources, sweetheart."

Hermione's cheeks burned as Zac lined the trees up and charmed them to have frost on their needles. They took turns decorating the trees, and by the time they were done, they swore never to decorate another tree again. But, the two Heads stepped back and admired their handiwork, never being so proud. Hermione smiled as the snow fell onto the ground, disappearing and then falling again in a never ending cycle. A part of her wished that Draco could see this, but quickly shut down that wish, scolding herself. Before she knew it, Zac had snaked an arm around her shoulders, pulling her closer to him. Hermione didn't try to ignore it or push him away. It felt amazingly good.

* * *

Draco noticed that Hermione was later than normal getting back. He had heard her leave in the morning after her normal routine of showering, singing, and cooking. Truly, he was cursing himself over and over for the outburst, but it wasn't like he could control them. Now, sitting at the edge of his bed, both hands gripping the wood so hard that his knuckles were turning white, he began to contemplate his life decisions up until this point.

One… He had been born into a Pure-blood family, one of the Sacred Twenty-Eight with a predictable pairing of his father, Lucius (a wealthy Malfoy, high up in social classes, and one of the wealthiest wizarding families in Britain), and his mother, Narcissa (a Black, well known for their power and wealth.) Their marriage had been expected of them, and unlike most arranged marriages, they actually loved one another. Therefore, he came into existence, being raised from his birth about how Muggle-borns were inferior, and Half-bloods weren't as bad, but were still products of had decisions. He had always known comfort through his family, and he had known nothing less than what they educated him on. When it came time for him to attend Hogwarts, he had already made friends with Crabbe, Goyle, Zabini, Pansy, and Bullstrode, because their parents would come over for galas that the children were expected to be angels at. Of course, that never happened. One too many times, Draco had gotten a good whack because of his treacherous ways. But other than normal adolescent misbehavior, he was a very obedient child. Draco followed the normal Malfoy tradition was sorted into Slytherin, taking pride in arrogance and horrid wrongdoings. Some of them he looked back on with distaste, others he looked back on with pride. He had been, and still was, one of Hogwarts' most well-known students. However, that was for all the wrong reasons.

Two… His family wasn't the most well-liked in the country. His parents were one of Voldemort's biggest supporters during the First Wizarding War, and even though they claimed they were under the Imperius Curse the entire time, it was a fraud to prevent them from going to Azkaban. Even now, when they were aligned with The Dark Lord, they still found people to take the fall for them and their cronic misbehavior. Draco knew that it was all an act to keep their reputation and their sanity, but it disgusted him that they would pledge their allegiance to such evil. That they would subject him to such evil. But, he supposed that that was the way they were raised, just as they raised him. And then there was his Aunt Bellatrix… If he hated one person in this world more than Harry Potter, it was her. She was psychotic. From an early age, he knew that there was something insanely wrong with her, and the way she followed Voldemort around like a puppy, doing his bidding, no matter how sinister it was. Of course Draco had heard about the torture of Frank and Alice Longbottom, and it had disturbed him greatly. He had made a point never to throw an insult involving the incident towards Neville, actually feeling sympathy for him. Bellatrix was in Azkaban for most of Draco's life, and he never how terrible she was until two years ago when she escaped along with all of Voldemort's proudly proclaimed followers. Something about her made his gut turn, knowing that she was capable of doing more than just killing her family. _You should be honored, Draco!_ Draco was the least bit honored by anything Voldemort asked of him. Unbeknownst to many of his fellow students, Draco was above Voldemort and his crimes. He had repented long before he had come back… Yet, he was forced to carry out his bidding and that was something that not a lot of people understood.

Third… Potter. When he had first met the immortal orphan, he had a decent amount of respect for him. After all, his family especially knew what had happened the night his parents were murdered. Potter showed signs of decency, and when the Sorting Hat placed him in Gryffindor, Draco was merely unsurprised. He would follow in the footsteps of his parents, just like Draco had too. And for years, he was forced to see Harry, Ron, and Hermione take the glory of everything that happened, good or bad. Yes, he was his rival, and yes he didn't like him one bit. But, the more Draco pondered it, the more he realized that Dumbledore had forced Harry into this game of cat and mouse, much like Voldemort had forced Draco into it. It made Draco question who were the good guys here really, and if anyone could be trusted. Hermione wasn't so bad; he had already had his revelations about her. But, Weasley could not be helped. There was indeed a rivalry between Draco and Harry, and everyone knew it. For the longest time, Draco had thought to outwit him, outdo him in everything and anything he could… But, after last year, and that bloody curse that left his chest battered and torn, he had come to realize that there were more important things in his life than outshining Potter. A part of him wished that Harry understood what he was going through, and maybe, if he was ever let out of his prison, he could discuss the details and actuality with him. It was common sense that Potter didn't deserve any of what he was going through – he shouldn't be out there hunting Horcruxes, just as Draco shouldn't have been locked up in Hogwarts with everyone believing he was dead.

Fourth… No one knew how much it messed up Draco's mind being asked to kill Dumbledore. Of course, it should have been an "honor." A privilege. Of what? Murdering the Headmaster of Hogwarts and one of the greatest wizards of all time in cold blood? Draco hardly considered that a privilege, but he knew the consequences of what would happen if he did not. Voldemort would kill his parents, and then him next, without so much as a care in the world, because that's the kind of beast he was. Draco spent so much of his time last year preparing ways to kill Dumbledore without confrontation. Snape even helped him, though he had suspected for a long time that Snape was a double-agent. He remembered his trips to Knockturn Alley, his visits home, and the constant harassing of his father and Aunt down his neck. When it finally came time and he let the Death Eaters in, he wasn't sure what he was thinking, or if he was even thinking clearly. Draco's plan never made it past killing the Headmaster; he had no idea how the events would play out afterwards, or if he would survive the ordeal either way. He didn't know how things would change, or if he had just been openly responsible for Voldemort's rise to power. All he cared about was saving his family, and that was misunderstood by many. The task of killing Dumbledore had shredded his psyche into a million different pieces, taking what was left of his sanity and surrendering it the night that he had seen Snape commit the murder. He hated himself for it, for even letting it get that far. But, he didn't dare admit it.

Fifth… His current situation. Inside, he had always been partial to Hermione, but living with her, kissing her, longing for her, and being thrown into this stupid arrangement was more than what he had bargained for. In some ways, it was worse than his task to kill Dumbledore. This arrangement was tearing at his emotions, some that he didn't even know he had. And what was worse was that she felt the same way about him. It wasn't a force to be reckoned with, whatever they were both feeling. His mother once told him that love was something that was unexplainable. You want to protect the other person, no matter what means were necessary. You had to have that person, be around them; you felt their empathy. You knew what they were going to say before they did. Draco knew that was mostly the definition of what his feelings entailed for Hermione, along with some anger and remorse. But, he knew that everything was fine inside this sanctuary. They could kiss and fight and do it all again as many times as they wanted until the time came when the Ministry would inevitably fall, and their short time together would be over. Their relationship wouldn't be accepted outside of this room, and that was something that Draco had come to realize a long time ago. He also realized that his longings for her were true and just, and that tonight, he would proclaim his feelings for her, no matter if she wanted to hear them or not. It needed to be said, before she was gone, and he was shipped off somewhere where he may never see her again. He couldn't live with himself with her not knowing that he did care about her…

By the time he was ready to burst out of his room and kiss her again, she still hadn't walked through the door. Draco began to pace, and his heart began to beat in a rapid thunderous manner. His stomach had dropped to the floor at the thought of something had happening to her, and him being trapped in this dorm not knowing. It was eating him alive, and he didn't know how much time had passed until he heard the door squeak. He peaked out of his bedroom door to see her sneak into the Common Area, and immediately knew that she had been up to something. The smell of oceans was upon her, and it masked her orchids and coconuts that he had grown to love. Mentally preparing himself, Draco pushed open his door gently, and walked over to where she sat in her chair, dropping himself down on the couch beside her.

They sat in silence for quite some time, neither one of them knowing what to say until Hermione got the courage.

"Why did you feel the need to come out?"

"Why do you smell like you shagged a coral reef?" Draco spat before instantly regretting he had responded to her. Hermione's cheeks flushed a deep red before she turned away from him to look out the window. Draco rolled his eyes. "I'm sorry."

Hermione turned to look at him with astonished hazel eyes, wide with amazement. He sighed and locked her eyes. "That's most unlike you…"

"Yeah, always the tone of surprise," Draco muttered, finding that very statement to be true about him these days.

Hermione's promise she made to herself about ignoring him was becoming increasingly nonexistent, as he continued to amaze her. "Do you think we should discuss our… kiss?"

Draco clenched his jaw. "No, there's nothing to discuss."

"But –"

"It was a kiss, Granger, nothing more," Draco told her flatly. "Have you found out anything on Ollivander or the Elder Wand?"

Hermione sighed at him changing the subject. "Snape and McGonagall seem to think that it's not a possibility."

"Bollocks!"

"That's what I said," Hermione continued. "So I met with some others from The Order and they think it could happen."

"So are they moving on this? If Voldemort gets that wand –"

"Dumbledore has the wand, Draco," Hermione stated clearly, knowing that it would rile him up. Draco only looked at her, studying her face, her seriousness. He didn't feel guilt, just a clear feeling that that alone would make the wand harder for Voldemort to get.

"He was buried with it?"

"I'm assuming so, and if he wasn't, it's in a spot where he knew Voldemort would never look…" Hermione explained.

"He's powerful," Draco shook his head. "If he wants that wand, he will get it and he will stop at nothing. You have to understand that."

"I do," Hermione nodded. "I just hate him… I hate everything about him. He's ruined so many lives, yours, mine, Harry's, Dumbledore's…"

Draco stayed silent for a moment, debating on what to say to her. When it came to him, and his moment of triumph, he decided on something simple. "You know I didn't want to do it, right?"

Hermione's eyes narrowed slightly at his calmness. "I assumed so. You were forced."

"As punishment for my father," Draco laid himself down on the couch, head closest to Hermione, resting against the arm. It felt strange to talk to her about it, but somehow relieving.

"For not retrieving the prophecy?" Hermione asked.

"Yes," Draco replied tautly. "I don't think that Voldemort thought I was going to survive, and it would be on my father's conscience forever."

"That's horrible," Hermione whispered, intrigued by his venting. She leaned on the arm, resting her chin on her arm. "I'm sorry."

"There's nothing to be sorry for, Granger. What's done is done," Draco replied. He hesitated momentarily. "I know that you, Potter, and Weasley saw Mum and I last year at Borgin and Burkes." Hermione didn't respond to him. "You knew the whole time, didn't you?"

"Harry did," Hermione said weakly, afraid of another outburst. "Ron and I thought he was mad, but he was right and we were wrong."

"Of course Potter knew, he's had it out for me since day one," Draco muttered, mostly to himself. "No one else was supposed to get hurt."

"I believe that."

"Granger, I'm serious," Draco said over his shoulder. "Do you know how many hours I was on top of the clock tower planning a murder?"

"I'm sure too many to count…"

"Damn right, and Snape didn't help matters. I was left to do things on my own with my Aunt and Voldemort breathing down my back like some sort of servant," Draco told her. His voice was becoming louder now, more furious.

"I'm sorry, Draco."

"I told you, Granger, there's nothing to be sorry about," Draco snapped, crossing his arms over his chest.

"You feel guilty."

Draco hesitated, then parted his lips. "Guilty isn't the right word, Granger."

"You feel… used?"

"Just stop," he drawled and closed his eyes. "I've been used before, and this was nothing like it."

"By Pansy?" Hermione wondered if she had gone too far that time and braced herself for an inevitable backlash. She was surprised to see Draco's chest maintain normal breathing.

"Pansy and I were… Yes, she used me," he spat. "Went on to fuck Zabini, and now she's locked up in Azkaban?"

"I don't know what McGonagall did," Hermione said softly. "I'm sorry about her, Draco."

"She means nothing to me anymore. Maybe she never did," Draco reasoned and put his hands behind his head.

"I just thought it would make things tenser between us…" Hermione whispered.

"No," Draco shook his head slightly. "You still annoy the piss out of me with your stupid questions and remarks. That's enough to make things tenser."

Hermione smiled to herself as she laid her head against her arm. The pair were quiet with one another until they both drifted off into sleep, as the clock was nearing two in the morning by the time that their conversation had ceased. Hermione felt guilty about her thoughts of pushing him away, realizing that he truly was misled, and that her mission was almost accomplished: he was changing. She was seeing a side of Draco that she had never seen before, the raw uncut version of him that was more human than she could ever give him credit for. She wondered if this was the side that Pansy saw, that she fell in love with. Hermione felt a twinge in her gut as she remembered Pansy's face, staring up at her blankly, just moments after she had tried to kill Hermione. That girl had loved Draco, known him better than Hermione ever could, yet had no idea that Hermione felt the same towards him. Vaguely, she wondered if Pansy had seen his shirt, and smelled spearmint and that had reminded her of the man she thought was long dead. It was ironic, really, that their feelings were mutual for the man laying on the couch beside her.

Draco felt better after opening up to Hermione, even though he didn't tell her the way he truly felt. A voice in the back of his head told him that that moment would never come, as he wasn't the type to proclaim feelings like a lovesick Ravenclaw left and right. If he was, he would have still been stuck on Pansy and maybe even head-over-heels for Hermione. But, he knew that she had to know he didn't want to kill Dumbledore. She had to know that he wasn't completely evil. No longer was he associating himself with that kind of evil, with that horrible creature that had torn lives apart left and right. No, he would not stoop to that level, and Merlin forbid that anyone – including Hermione – refer to him as one of the Death Eaters. Draco made a conscious decision that night that if he were ever to see his father again, he would punch him in his pointy upturned nose, and then scream at him for every ounce of pain he had caused, directly or indirectly. It was such a horrible burden to live with, and Draco decided he did not want to be a part of it.


	16. Chapter 16

_Currently, I have my fiancé staring down my back at this blank word document while I eat yogurt with butterfingers and chocolate chips and drink tea. Because I'm a classy bitch, you know. Anywho, I love Zac's character. It is so fun to write him, and one of the greatest pleasures I get is expanding on characters. I am a huge fan of him from the DA side. From the Slytherins, I adore Theo, so he will be coming into play here soon. Any ideas on who he should be matched up with? Leave your opinions in the reviews._

Chapter 16:

The next day was full of hastiness as from the moment Hermione woke up. She found herself on the arm of her chair, her neck in an extremely uncomfortable position and her legs felt like pins were continuously being pressed into them. Groggily, she looked up to see the sunlight streaming in through her windows and the body of a young man lying on her couch with his right arm above his head. She sat up as quietly as her body allowed her too, sneaking a peek at Draco's sleeping figure. It was nice to see him so relaxed, though she scolded herself because she wanted him to be like this all the time. Knowing all too well that when he woke up, it would most likely be back to spatting insults, she took her time in watching him, taking in the peace that finally surrounded them.

"Do you always tend to watch people when they sleep, Granger?" came Draco's voice, as pompous as usual.

Hermione bit her lip thinking up a response, but decided to leave without one. She arose from her chair, still taking the time to be near-silent about it, and walked to her room without saying one word to the Slytherin on her couch. Draco's eyes had long since opened, and he watched her as she walked to her room, ignoring him the entire way. If the woman thought just because she got him to mildly open up a few times that they were best mates, she had a lot to learn about Slytherins… and men in general. Draco stretched and yawned, realizing that he didn't have any nightmares last night for the first time in months. Shocked, he sat up, staring at Hermione's closed bedroom door, wondering if she had anything to do with that.

In her room, Hermione looked to the bag over the dress she had picked out for the ball that evening. On any normal occasion, she would have been more than excited to get dolled-up and leave her sanctuary. But tonight didn't feel right. She thought they shouldn't be celebrating in a time where everything was so uncertain. But, she was obligated to go. The witch ran her hand over the dress bag, taking a deep breath and moving it so she could go into her closet. She chose a pair of dark jeans and one of Harry's Quidditch shirts to wear for the day. Her hair was pulled back into a messy bun, and she threw her sneakers on as she walked out her bedroom door. She noticed that Draco had sat up. He stared at her with such intensity, Hermione thought it best to go back into her room, close the door, and hide there forever. Was it because she hadn't answered his question? Or was there some sort of other deeper meaning to his stares?

Not thinking to deeply into it, Hermione only gave the young man a lingering look before tucking her wand safely in her back pocket and exiting their dorm. She looked down the hallways to see the same sunlight trickling into them as it did in her room. A few classmates passed and said hello, but Hermione was more interested in what was shining off of those windows. She bid her classmates hello, but walked quickly over to the window, and what she saw made her heart skip a beat. Snow. It was snowing.

"Absolutely beautiful, isn't it?" a familiar voice came from beside her. Hermione immediately knew who it was and only sighed.

"It is," she said. "It's funny how we were just saying yesterday that it hadn't snowed quite yet."

"It was bound to happen," Zac shrugged. "It is Scotland."

"Yes," Hermione said softly, watching the snowflakes falling down from the clouds onto the ground. "It makes everything seem so… peaceful."

"Everything has been peaceful this morning," Zac supplied thoughtfully. "Even the Slytherins weren't on edge at breakfast."

"I noticed," Hermione said without thinking, but her mind was on the only Slytherin she had seen this morning. Zac raised an eyebrow and Hermione blushed. "That everything has been so peaceful. It is a relatively nice change."

"Something will happen, Hermione," Zac crossed his arms and leaned against the banister below the window. Hermione looked at him curiously. "It might not be now, but it will happen. McGonagall is pulling Muggleborns out after the break, you know. I heard that Nott was forced to take The Mark. Parkinson practically got herself killed trying to kill you. It's just bizarre."

Hermione nodded, taking heed to what Zac had just told her. "I think that McGonagall is taking Muggleborns out for their protection, Zac. Just to keep them hidden the best we can. It's best they not be around for the war anyways. On the topic of the Slytherins taking the mark; a lot of them were probably forced by their parents. And Parkinson… she's just brainwashed like the rest of them."

"Could you imagine what a wonderful world it would be if You-Know-Who never existed?" Zac asked softly. Hermione could very well imagine it. "Everything would be so… perfect."

"We have Harry out there making it right right now," Hermione reasoned. "We will win this war, Zac. Don't tell me you're thinking we can't."

"No," Zac shook his head slowly. "I truly believe we can, Hermione. But, please don't tell me that I am not the only person who's told you that it isn't likely we will survive."

She shook her head that no, he wasn't. Almost everyone had been telling her that, and right now, what she needed was support, not people telling her that they may not come out of this war alive. Because if it continued, people would lose their faith. She would lose her faith. Faith in Harry, faith that somehow, they would get through this….

"Of course not. But, Zac, we can. We just have to be patient, that's all."

"I truly and deeply believe you, Hermione. I do," Zac said and reached out to run his fingers over her shoulder. "Just don't stop believing in it yourself."

* * *

The remainder of the day was spent organizing transportation for the Muggleborns to leave the castle. Ginny and Neville were in charge of rounding up the lot of them that stayed over the holidays and send them back to their parents or to safe houses. If everything went according to plan, they would be out of the castle by midnight after the ball had concluded and on the train as far away from Scotland as humanely possible. It was such a sad concept to understand, and the first-years, even though they understood, had volunteered to stay. McGonagall had forbidden it, but was touched none-the-less. She knew the time was growing nearer. She especially knew when Rowley Nott stepped foot into her castle that evening, apparently for a meeting with Professor Snape. The Headmistress knew, however, that even though the meeting with Snape was likely, Nott was here on other business. Most importantly, she knew she had to warn young Theo.

On her way to the dungeons where she presumed the young Master Nott would be, she caught Snape's eye. He quickly dismissed the student he was lecturing in the hallway adjacent to McGonagall and moved towards her with ease. He quickly fell into pace with her, and the Headmistress casted a silencing charm down the hallway, just for extra precautions.

"It is not usual for you to be in the dungeons, Minerva. I assume something has happened."

"Rowley Nott is in the castle for a meeting with you, Severus. A meeting I am almost sure you know nothing about," came her curt reply.

If Snape was surprised, he certainly did not show it. "Ah yes. Nott owled me not half an hour ago saying he would be in the castle on business."

"Not Ministry business, I assume."

"Obviously not."

"I need to tell Theodore of his father's presence," she told Snape quickly. She turned to face her colleague, a look of determination in her blue eyes. "Theodore is not allowed to leave this castle, Severus. Do not allow Mr. Nott to take him."

A moment of understanding passed between the two. Snape nodded. "He is of age. The Ministry law does not apply to him as long as he is in the castle. He falls under your jurisdiction."

"See to it that Mr. Nott is made aware of that," McGonagall said hastily as the two continued down the hallway.

"I assume you are still willing to risk Draco's life by bringing Theodore into this," Snape side-glanced the Headmistress curiously.

McGonagall wasted no time dispelling Snape's remark. "Indeed I do, Severus. Young Mr. Nott was only made a Death Eater because his father made him do so. I have faith that he is not like the rest of the seventh-year Slytherins."

"That is quite true," was the only answer Snape could reply with before they came upon the door to the Slytherin Common Room.

"Maestus," McGonagall said to door and it swung open. She lifted her dress and took two steps down into the sitting area, where about fifteen Slytherins were spread about. Theodore was in the left corner, dusting off his dress robes eagerly. The Headmistress cleared her throat loudly. "Mr. Nott, would you come with me please?"

The other housemates all turned to stare at Theo as he straightened his form and walked over to the two adults without hesitation. There was a twinkle in his eye, but when McGonagall looked down to his left arm, she could see the red poking out through the edge of his dress robe sleeve. The thought that he had taken the Mark alone had made her sickened. She turned Theo by his shoulder as the three descended back into the hallway. Snape silently cast the silencing charm this time.

"How can I help you, Professors?" Theo asked, his cocky attitude shining through his words.

"Mr. Nott, your father is in the caste," McGonagall told the young man, not wasting any time beating around the bush. The cocky aura around the young Nott fell like the snow around Hogwarts. He turned to face Snape, a look of anger in his eyes. "It is my duty to tell you that if you do not wish to leave with him, you do not have too. You will be under my protection. It is very important that you know this, Theo."

"I knew the bastard would come for me. I've been ignoring his letters, and it is a day before Christmas," Theo shrugged. "I don't plan on leaving."

"You know he will try to make you, do not be a fool," Snape shot at him.

"Severus, he knows his rights," McGonagall said, hushing her friend. "Theo, we have an important task for you, if you are up to the challenge." Theo looked at her with interest. "It is of the utmost importance you do not leave with your father. Do you understand?"

"Yes ma'am, crystal as ice," Theo nodded. Snape shot him a look, but Theo didn't cringe under it like he normally would have. Something inside told him that Snape was not out to harm him. He had been under that impression for quite some time and it was proving to be true.

"Good. When the ball is over and your father has left the castle, please come directly to my office. We will discuss it from there," McGonagall ordered hastily. "Now, off you go."

Theo nodded and went back down the hallway to the common room to finish getting ready for the ball. Snape crossed his arms and looked at his friend, the look of nothing on his face. McGonagall continued walking down the hallway, the opposite direction from Theo and Snape.

"I sure hope you know what you are doing, Minvera."

"I do, Severus. I am rather good at these things you know." With that, the Headmistress was up the stairs and out of view and earshot before Snape could get in another word.

* * *

Hermione felt entirely self-conscious the entire afternoon, even when she was summoned to McGonagall's office. Zac had made her feel important, so important that she did not want to leave his side. A part of her wanted to invite him back into her dorm, snog him, and meet him at the ball at seven thirty prompt. The other part knew that there was the Slytherin Prince behind those doors, and his kisses were like gin and tonic, fiery and irresistible. How she wished things could just be normal… How she wished Harry and Ron were there, that she would be free to pursue a relationship with Zac, that she wasn't a key player in this war, or maybe… maybe she wished for the first time that she wasn't Muggleborn. If she was Pureblood, her feelings for Draco would be justified…

"Miss Granger? Would you please have a seat?" McGonagall asked curtly. Hermione was so deep in her own thoughts that she hadn't noticed she had arrived in the Headmistress' office.

"Certainly, Professor," Hermione showed herself to her usual seat, wondering what the meeting was called for.

McGonagall took her glasses off her nose and rubbed the bridge of it with closed eyes. "Miss Granger, you are aware of young Theodore Nott, are you not?"

"Yes, ma'am," Hermione nodded, wondering what Theo had to do with anything.

"I don't know if you have heard this, but he was forced to take the Mark," McGonagall said, her eyes still closed tightly. "However, Theo is unlike his fellow Slytherins. He is, may I say, more like your roommate."

Hermione raised an eyebrow skeptically. "He doesn't want to be a Death Eater?"

"Anyone who makes the choice willingly has bigger issues than what they do or do not want, Miss Granger. Theo despises his father for presenting him to He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named to be a servant for him. So much, that he came to us for help," McGonagall explained. Hermione's eyes widened. "Mr. Nott is… how do I say this kindly?"

"Something tells me you can't, Professor."

McGonagall's eyes opened. "You are right indeed. He is a terrible man. An evil one at that."

Hermione's eyes closed at the thought of her last encounter with Theo's father. It was in the Department of Mysteries. He had gotten her with a hex, a pretty bad one that would have more than likely killed her if Nott hadn't been distracted by Sirius jumping into her rescue. Still, it had left a scar about five inches long under her left breast and had taken months to heal completely. She shuddered, knowing all too well how evil Theo's father really was.

"He is here in the castle on business," McGonagall explained. Hermione's eyes opened slowly, wondering how the bloody hell he was let into the castle. As if McGonagall read her mind, she continued, "It is Ministry business, Hermione. If you see him and he taunts you, walk the other direction. He wouldn't dare pull a wand on you here. But, that is not the topic I brought you here to discuss. Theo came to us for help months ago. We have been working out a plan to keep him out of harms way. One of the ways we thought to do that was to stage his death." Realization dawned on Hermione. Just like they had done for Draco. Had he gone to them for help too? "Obviously, two Slytherins in the same year with fathers that were high ranking Death Eaters that both mysteriously 'died' wasn't convincing. Theo agreed to come for his seventh year. Unfortunately, we were not quick enough to spare him from The Mark. Even though he has taken it, he assures us he is not loyal to the Death Eaters or He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named in any way. Which is why we are going to enlist his help."

"His help? With all due respect, Professor, if Nott is just playing along for Voldemort's sake –"

"He is not, Hermione. I am sure of it," McGonagall cut her off. Hermione clamped her mouth shut, a terrible feeling beginning to form in the pit of her stomach. "Theodore will help you and Draco. When the time is right, Draco will need to leave Hogwarts. Mr. Nott will help him out. We are sending them to a place that is safe, that not even He-Who-Would-Not-Be-Named would think to look. Theodore will look after Mr. Malfoy, I assure you."

Hermione sighed in frustration. "This doesn't sit well with me, Professor."

"At least you will know he is in capable hands," McGonagall said pointedly. "The Order needs as much help as it can get, Hermione. Draco plays a very important part in bringing down He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named; you must understand we need to keep him safe at all costs."

"Fine. So, Nott takes Dra- Malfoy to this safe place. Then what happens?" Hermione demanded. A new found concern for Draco began seeping into her from all angles.

"They will stay put until the time is right for them to appear again," McGonagall simply replied. "They know their place, Hermione. Draco has already helped you with clues the boys have sent you. Theodore does not want to go back with his father, only to be a servant for a cause he doesn't believe in. I know you think all Slytherins are vile and cunning, but bravery and courage are not just attributes to Gryffindor, Hermione. It took a lot of courage for young Theo to ask us for help, knowing we were the enemy, and not knowing how we would react. Take that into consideration before you judge his position on the matter. In the meantime, I would like you to speak with him tomorrow. If everything goes as planned, he will be filled in tonight after the ball on our plan."

"Yes, Professor. Should Draco know about Nott's involvement?" Hermione asked.

"No, I think it best not to clue Mr. Malfoy in on anything just yet," the Headmistress replied with a wave of her hand. "I am almost certain that Nott Sr. will be here for the ball. His business here is probably to evaluate Hogwarts for his master. Do not give him the time of day. Ignore him. And above all, do not let him see you with Theodore."

"I won't, Professor."

"Good. Now, go get ready for the ball. I will see you in a few hours."

* * *

Hermione fumed the entire way back to her dorm. If she could scream without anyone noticing her, she would. Normally, she would leave that for her dorm, but unfortunately, there was already company there. She threw open the door after muttering her password, and took a quick look around to see Draco was in his room, the door shut. Thanking Merlin, Hermione began stomping towards her room but not before Draco opened his door. She stopped short, her back to him, ready for a verbal beating or an ignorant stare. However, she got neither. He was silent. So much that she had to turn around to make sure he was actually there. And he was. But, his mouth wasn't moving to throw insults her way, and his stare wasn't ignorant. It was curious.

"You're mad," he observed with a raised eyebrow. Hermione glared his direction.

"And why do you think you know that?" Hermione asked. It wasn't polite but not mean either.

Draco chuckled. "My mother, when she was mad, would slam doors before making sure no one was around to hear them. Then, she would check to see if anyone saw her, and if they didn't, she would go to her room to fume. It looks like you just did the exact same thing."

"I haven't made it to my room yet," Hermione grumbled, tempted to hex him just for the hell of it.

"You still haven't told me why you're angry," Draco pressed.

"Honestly, use your head and you'll probably figure it out," Hermione snapped and marched to her room. She didn't close the door, because she was curious about what Draco would do. As expected, he came to lean against her doorframe, studying her little body intently as she moved around her room, rage-cleaning everything in sight.

"I know you don't want to hear this, but whatever it is that's bothering you won't be bothering you forever," Draco said as she sped by him.

"And since when have you been so sentimental?" Hermione growled under her breath, thinking that it was most unlike the Slytherin to say something so touching.

"Maybe you just haven't seen that side of me," Draco shrugged. Hermione ignored him, and he waited while she passed him a few times before taking a chance and grabbing her arm. Surprisingly, she didn't pull away from him. "You will get over it."

Hermione didn't realize how close they were now. It had just been like all those other times, where she could feel his breath on her lips, how they had kissed more than once… She looked up into his grey eyes and saw the storms brewing. Brewing just for her. Even as Draco peered down at her, he cursed himself for finding a Muggleborn so damn attractive. She gazed up at him, and he could tell that the fire was slowly leaving her eyes, and her anger was beginning to dissipate.

"I don't think this is something I can get over," Hermione whispered. "It's kind of a direct result of you and the Order."

"A direct result of the Order," Draco corrected her firmly. "I didn't ask to be put here."

Hermione sighed, realizing that he was right. The Order was mostly to blame for their current situation. But even now, as she stared up into the eyes of Draco Malfoy, she couldn't help but thank them because if they hadn't brought him into her life, she wouldn't have gotten the opportunity to know him, or kiss him, or stand here… just like this.

"Things will work out, Hermione," Draco told her softly. It wasn't a request or a longing. His voice spoke the truth: he was sure that they would.

"I'm Hermione now?" she asked, cocking her head slightly, realizing that he was moving ever so close to her now.

"Would you prefer me to call you Granger?" he asked with a smirk.

"I think Hermione will do," Hermione whispered; his smirk was almost on top of her lips now. She could feel the warm tingle of his breath, the fresh mint of his aftershave. It was glorious, and she wanted it so badly it hurt.

"Good because that wasn't a request," was the last she heard him say before his lips overtook hers.

It was heaven; the type of heaven that you could only dream of because it was too good to be real. The kiss wasn't like their previous ones; it was full of passion and concern for one another. Unspoken truths that wouldn't be revealed for a long while. Hermione put her all into that kiss; how she was falling for the Slytherin, how all she wanted was for him to be safe, and how much she truly adored him. Draco moved his lips against hers in the hungriest of ways, only wanting to feel her body against his. He swore to Salazar that if he made it out alive from this war, then he would be the first to make a change in the Malfoy lineage. A deep rumble was building up inside his soul as he grabbed onto her for his dear life, the life that she had control over. He had let her take complete control over him, and somehow now, they were moving back over Hermione's now nice and neat floor to her bed. Mirroring their last kiss, Draco picked her up by her legs and wrapped them around his waist, stopping her backing up. He just wanted to feel her, to enjoy the warmth of her body wrapped around his. Her hands were on the sides of his cheeks now, around the back of his head, pulling only slightly at his hair in the way that drove him passionately insane…

And all he could do was focus so he didn't let Hermione fall. Her legs were locked in place around his waist, her chest pressed firmly against his. Draco took the liberty of moving closer to her bed, teasing her only gently as he let her fall back onto the cushion. She bounced a few inches off the mattress back into his chest while they tumbled back. Draco took his position over top of her, running his hands along her arms and slowly moving them above her head. Hermione's thoughts were clouded with passion, with angst, and even though she was slightly concerned about Draco pulling her arms above her head, she allowed him to do so. He placed kisses down the sensitive skin behind her ear and to her neck, where he stopped at her earlobe, nibbling gently.

"Are you sure you want to do this?" he whispered, still holding her hands above her head.

"Yes," she whispered intently back.

Draco didn't have to ask twice. As he moved his lips back up, he knew he needed to enjoy this… For only in a few hours time, she would be off to the ball in the dress hung up on her closet door with Smith; as he was taking her away from him for the hundredth time. The thought made his soul suffer, and he came to realize at that very moment that he was possessive over her. After all, he wanted his dream to come true… in a perfect world without war, where Hermione could be all his.


	17. Chapter 17

_I just adore this part of the story. I promise you'll love it as much as I will! I'm going to be bringing in more characters as time goes on, and we'll see how all of their stories intertwine into one. These chapters are also going to be getting longer to cover more ground._ _If you have any suggestions, feel free to PM me! Let's get this up over 10,000 views guys! We're ALMOST THERE! :D REVIEW!_

Chapter 17:

McGonagall moved through the hallways swiftly, the hem of her black dress dragging across the tile floor. She entered the hallway in front of the Great Hall to see Mr. Nott standing with Lucius Malfoy and Snape. The breath inside her chest caught as she stared at the two Death Eaters in her castle, praying to Merlin that this wouldn't be a repeat of the fateful night her dear Albus had been taken. Her eyes narrowed as she placed her hands inside her robes, her fingers gripped around her wand tightly. She cleared her throat as not to draw attention. Snape didn't pay her any mind, but Lucius and Nott both turned to stare at the Headmistress. Lucius' lips curved into the signature Malfoy sneer. McGonagall squared her shoulders.

"I assume you have a reason to be here, Lucius."

"Of course, Minerva. I thought it best to accompany Mr. Nott to his meeting with Severus," Lucius's cunning voice replied. His grey eyes, so like his son's, bore into her own. They held a warning, but she didn't take heed to it.

"I never received word you would be escorting him," her rigid voice barked. Lucius tilted his head only slightly. "I'm sure Severus has had enough of your taunting from your… Master. I assume that is why you are here, to deliver a message from him."

"You know nothing, Minerva McGonagall!" Mr. Nott spat. Snape's black eyes drifted to his companion and then back to the Headmistress.

"Now, now, Rowley," Lucius, ever the diplomat, said and put his hand on Nott's arm which had been raised a few inches off of his thigh. "Let's pay the Headmistress respect, we _are_ in _her_ castle."

"You'll do right to remember that," McGonagall glared at the two men. "If you are most finished, Severus will see you out."

She had turned her back only a quarter inch when Nott's voice filled her ears again. It took all her composure to not turn and cast a full body-bind on him and send him out of her caste that way. But, the impression on her students would not be a good one, so she allowed him to spat his filth. Except, this time it was about his son. McGonagall wasn't surprised; obviously Nott Sr. had been unable to locate his offspring.

"I have unfinished business here, witch. I have yet to collect my son."

McGonagall turned to the man with her eyebrows raised. "The collection of young Theodore is not permitted, Mr. Nott. After all, he is of age and he has chosen to stay in the castle. Surely you understand…"

Nott's blue eyes lit on fire almost like the Christmas lights that surrounded the elders. "My son is to come with me IMMEDIATELY!"

"Lucius," McGonagall turned her attention back to the blonde man who only stared at her coolly. "It would do you well to remind Mr. Nott of Ministry regulations, if you would be so kind. I must be leaving. I do bid you all a good Christmas Eve."

McGonagall ignored Nott's shouting as she descended up the stairs behind her. Although her insides were burning with hatred for the Death Eaters in her castle, she felt rather proud for standing up to them. Lucius had always been a cunning man, but she knew he hadn't a problem reminding Mr. Nott of Ministry laws, after all, if they broke those laws, it would throw off their plan to overtake the Ministry. As she rounded the corner, she noticed a slight movement in the shadows and a figure attempting to reach one of the moving staircases. Knowing she was out of earshot from the three men in front of the Great Hall, and hearing Severus escort them from the other direction, she knew she was safe in calling the young man out.

"You can come out, Theodore."

The figure stopped moving from the staircase and turned to face the Headmistress in the light. He was in the same dress robes as an hour ago, leaning against one of the pillars. They met eyes as she made her way up to where he was standing.

"I assume you heard everything," she said curtly.

"Yes ma'am," came his reply, and his voice, was relief. Relief that he didn't have to go back to the Nott residence with his estranged father, and relief that he dodged the bullet from seeing Voldemort for another few days.

"You do realize that if your father persists, I can only keep you here for so long," McGonagall said. Theo's eyes dropped to the floor, but when they looked back at her, they were full of perseverance. "Eventually, Ministry regulations will mean nothing here. When that time comes, I will have to send you away. Until then, you will do your best to avoid your father. You are under our protection until it is no longer possible."

"I appreciate it. A lot of the others in my year don't think the same way I do, you know," he shrugged. "There may be one or two that agree with me, but I am rather outspoken…"

"I trust you will learn to watch your mouth then, young Mister Nott," McGonagall said with a smirk.

"I am trying, ma'am, it's just a bit hard for me," Theo said with a smile.

"I suggest you take up arms with Mr. Finnegan. When the time comes, you two would work wonderfully together," McGonagall suggested.

The look on Theo's face was a mix of displeasure and curiosity. As he thought about what she had just told him, she excused herself and walked up the stairs. She knew that Snape would meet her halfway, but before he had even got to her, she saw two familiar faces heading her way. Remus Lupin and Arthur Weasley intercepted her, both had their wands in their hands. It was not hard to guess that Severus had owled them that Mr. Nott and Mr. Malfoy were in the castle.

"Is everything alright? We just Floo'ed in from your office, I hope you don't mind, Minerva, but Severus said _Rowley Nott and Lucius Malfoy_ are here?" Arthur demanded quickly.

McGonagall fell into step with the two Order members. "Yes, they are here. I am not so certain they are leaving quite yet, either."

"What brings them to Hogwarts?" Lupin asked. McGonagall noticed that both of them were in dress robes, like herself. How fitting for them to be at the ball to chaperone.

"I am assuming they were informing Severus of Death Eater business," she said as they rounded a corner. "I just happened to walk in on them by the Great Hall. Mr. Nott was here for another reason however; he had come for his son."

"Theodore?" Arthur asked with concern in his voice. "The young man who had taken the Mark?"

"Yes, the very same," she replied. "I informed Theodore of his rights not to leave the castle, and he intends not to do so. Mr. Nott, however, did not take kindly to my reminding him of such."

Lupin raised his eyebrows. "Young Theodore fears his father. It is not very likely he will turn his back on us now."

"I believe he will not," McGonagall agreed steadily. "Remus, if Mr. Nott and Mr. Malfoy have not left the castle in one hour when the ball begins, please have at least one more Auror present. We do not need a catastrophe on our hands, gentlemen."

"Very true," Arthur nodded and cast a side glance to his companion. "Tonks will do?"

"Tonks is with her mother and aunt for the time being, and need I say, the situation is very dire," Lupin reminded the two Order members.

McGonagall nodded. "How is Mrs. Malfoy?"

"Surprisingly cooperative," replied Lupin with a hint of pleasure in his voice. "She is unlike most women I have ever known. The Black in here is undeniable, to say the very least."

"It is good to know we have her on our side," Arthur agreed. "Kingsley could come, Minerva. I am most certain he can leave the Minister's side for one night, especially Christmas Eve."

"I agree," Lupin's reply came soon after.

McGonagall withdrew her wand and quickly cast a patronus, bidding Kingsley to the castle. The blue and wispy tabby cat bounded from her kitten, tilted its head to its caster, and then bounded out the nearest window to the trio. With a sigh, the three watched the patronus run from the grounds and through the night sky as quickly as it could to its recipient.

"I do hope that tonight goes well," McGonagall said to herself, not fully remembering the two men flanking her sides.

"We will make sure it does," Lupin assured her and gave her shoulder a firm squeeze.

* * *

Hermione's hazel eyes could barely open as she felt Draco's lips litter kisses down her neck. For the first time in her life, she was giving in to what could only be the most dangerous and sinister thing she'd ever done. And that was saying something, considering she had been attacked by a troll, brewed Ployjuice potion when she was twelve in the women's lavatory, went back in time and saved Sirius and Buckbeak from certain death, coached Harry through all of the wizarding trials and went to the Yule Ball with the one and only Viktor Krum, defeated Death Eaters in the Department of Mysteries, had to deal with the slutty Lavender Brown, deal with the death of her beloved Headmaster (courtesy of the man doing damning things to her skin right now), _and_ Oblivate her parents. This, above all, was the most perilous thing she had ever done. And she didn't care.

For the brightest witch of her age, she tended to think things through with excessive detail, weighing out every possible outcome. This, however, was the exception. She had never thought once about sleeping with Draco Malfoy. Their kisses were phenomenal, and she had grown to care for him. All these things she thought she could never do because of the rift he had created between them. But now, things were different; they were different. The times they were living in were different. At any moment, Hermione could be called to McGonagall's office and be told that Voldemort had overthrown the Ministry and his next move would be on the castle. That meant Draco and herself would be separated for a long time, if not forever. They were at war, and war makes people do crazy things. Like, sleeping with your arch enemy.

But, he didn't feel like her enemy. Not now, when his hands were being drug all around her body, gripping at her hips or breasts, and his lips pecking against her delicate skin. Hermione had only ever been with one man before Draco, and that was Ron. Ron never took his time the way Draco had. He hadn't kissed her with such passion and understanding as Draco had. All this time, Hermione had thought it was inevitable that she would one day marry Ronald Weasley, but now… now she wasn't so sure. Her feelings had taken a sharp turn and landed her in bed with the Slytherin Prince, and she had to fight off what she thought Harry and Ron would do if they walked into her room right now.

Draco, on the other hand, was so close to heaven he could feel it. By heaven, he meant normality. In his heart, he felt like he should be doing this. As a Pureblood, he was raised to only sleep with the woman he knew he would one day marry and bring into his family. Obviously, not all Pureblood men, including himself, followed that custom. The notches in his bedpost were high, and although it didn't matter now, he felt like he should begin giving a shit about who he slept with, because it could be the last time.

His feelings for Hermione had grown steadily, from the moment he was put in her house in Muggle London with her. He felt sure that she was "the one", but continuously blamed it on the fact that she had been the only woman he had been around for months. But, when Pansy had tried to kill her, it really hit him hard. He knew that he couldn't lose Hermione, and if it was one of his family or friends that killed her, he wouldn't be able to live with that.

Draco's nose nuzzled into the side of her neck with ease, and he breathed, causing her the slightest of trembles. "Hermione, may I ask you something?"

"Anything," came her soft reply instantly. Her hands were running through his blonde hair, her fingers only gently caressing his scalp. Merlin, it was amazing...

"How do you feel about me?" he asked, knowing she would retaliate.

And retaliate, she did. She pulled back and pulled Draco from her neck to above her so she could look him in the eye. Her hazel eyes stared into his, searching for the reasoning behind his question. But, the only thing she could conclude was that he honestly, really wanted to know. It was incredibly gentleman-like of him, and she couldn't help but smile as she brushed his blonde bangs out of his eyes.

"I've grown quite fond of you," she said and titled her head slightly to get a better look at his expression. His eyes visibly softened as he waited for her to continue. "You've become a very important part in my life. Why do you ask?"

Draco cleared his throat and focused on anywhere in the room but her and the bulge in his pants. "In Pureblood tradition, a man is not supposed to sleep with a woman unless she reciprocates his feelings towards her."

Hermione's eyes widened. "So, you've grown fond of me as well? I am an important part in your life?"

"You're the only thing in my life right now, in case you've forgotten," Draco murmured sheepishly. He turned his attention back to her. "But, yes, on all counts."

Hermione smiled at him and planted a kiss on his lips happily with her heart doing somersaults in her chest. "I never thought I would actually mean something to you."

"Honestly, neither did I," Draco said truthfully with a sympathetic kiss to her lips. "But, I do, and obviously you do too…"

Hermione didn't know what came over her, but she was tired of hearing about their feelings. She just wanted to express them. She rolled over top of Draco onto his chest, and began kissing him feverishly, like it was the last opportunity for her to ever do so. Draco's eyes instinctively closed, but snapped right back open when she leaned up to sit on his lap. It didn't help his bulge any that there was an attractive witch taking off her shirt right in front of him. Quickly, he leaned up and helped her loose Potter's Quiddtich shirt to the pile of dirty laundry on the floor. His shirt was next, joining hers. Hermione took a moment and admired Draco's body – as she found she always did when he was shirtless. He was indeed built like a seeker; not too built but not thin either. He had just the right amount of muscle in all the right places, and it made Hermione swoon.

After a million more kisses and what felt like a million more minutes, Draco moved to unclasp her bra. More than anything, he just wanted to feel her skin on his. With a bit of help from Hermione, as he was rusty at removing lingerie, she sat bare and topless on his lap. Her breasts were supple, just like her. They were perfect, and Draco couldn't stop staring at her. If this was what she looked like under all those clothes, why had he never come after her before? Why didn't any man? He dove at her, tackling her back so they were by the foot of her bed, Hermione's hair hanging down over the edge. It had long since come out of her messy bun, and lay in curls about the sheets. Draco kissed down her chest and stomach until he got to the jeans that fit perfectly on her curves. With one swift stroke, he unbuttoned, unzipped, and pulled them down, tossing them to their pile of clothes. Hermione's heart beat increasingly faster as she felt the bed shift and Draco take off the rest of his garments, leaving them bare to the touch. Her panties were off before she could do it herself, and she found herself propped up on her elbows, looking into the grey eyes of a very intense Slytherin.

"Shall we?" he asked, waiting patiently, although he swore that if she didn't go through with this then he would abandon all of his hopes and dreams and live in insanity for the rest of his life.

Hermione, always taking precautions, reached for her wand on the floor which had since fallen out of her pocket, and cast a quick contraceptive charm, then looked at the man in front of her as seductively as possible. And seductive, it was. Draco crawled over top of her, and began kissing her lips as gently as he could, not knowing if she was still relatively unexperienced. She wasn't, and she knew what to expect, although she hadn't laid eyes on Draco's member just yet. He moved so he towered over her, and Hermione got the sudden feeling like she was being swallowed before Draco cautiously moved himself inside of her.

She shifted softly against the blankets, trying to find the right angle. Draco never once took his eyes off of her face, studying it for any pain or uncomfort. But, it never came. Soon, the two were happily in place, and Draco began to move back and forth, in and out, ever so softly. Hermione was in pure bliss – it had been so long since she had experienced these sensations. Her fingers gripped his left arm, unknowingly gripping the edge of the snake on his Mark. Draco only winced when her fingernails dug into his skin, but continued to move against her responsive body.

It wasn't until a few minutes had passed when they found their motion that Hermione whispered for him to go faster. Draco couldn't help but smile; he always thought she would be risky in the sheets. He obliged, kissing her neck and moving his hips to the correct speed to hear her moans intensify. Hermione's legs came up around his waist, pulling him in deeper, to which he could only close his eyes and fall against the crook of her neck as he continued to pleasure her.

"Harder," she whispered against his ear.

Draco pulled himself up, balancing on his knuckles, and shoved himself deep inside of her. Her moans became screams, her fingers knotting in the back of his hair, and her teeth suddenly on his shoulder. Draco's eyes rolled back in his head as he concentrated on not orgasming right then and there because Merlin knew he would have if he didn't have self-control. Hermione's eyes were tightly closed, focusing only on the feeling of the man inside of her. She couldn't help but scream, hoping it wasn't too loud, but then again… she didn't care.

All Draco could focus on was making Hermione orgasm around him. He thrusted faster and harder until his movements became rocky and uneven, until Hermione's screaming became a higher pitch and her body trembled beneath him. He allowed himself to go then, falling onto her chest in exhaustion. Hermione was seeing stars still, and Draco's eyes only say the pitch black backs of his eyelids. Soon, he felt fingers through his hair, and his eyes opened only slightly to see their pile of clothes on the floor and her dresser in the background.

"Thank you," she whispered softly and kissed the top of his head.

"I should be thanking you," Draco chuckled, enjoying hearing her heart race beneath of his ear.

"I wish things were different," Hermione said, her head laying back against the sheets now.

"So do I," Draco agreed, eyeing the dress bag hanging off of her door. "You should start getting ready for the ball."

The thought of the ball had never crossed Hermione's mind from the moment she set foot back into her dorm. Draco was right, however, that the ball would be starting soon, and her absence would yield some major explaining. She nodded against his head, and Draco moved so she could stand up. He laid back against her pillows, admiring her naked body as she rooted through her dresser for undergarments. They didn't speak a word to one another as Hermione got ready. If it was up to her, she would've ditched the ball and stayed in bed with Draco all evening. Alas, it wasn't possible, and both of them knew it. But, he would be waiting right in her bed for her when she returned.

Hermione took her dress out of the bag, and slipped it on over her head, feeling incredibly self-conscious. It was midnight blue and shone with subtle sparkles, the only fabric for straps hanging down around her shoulders. She turned to the mirror and cast a few glamor charms to make herself look presentable, and quickly curled her hair and put it to the left side. She turned to face Draco, would whistled lowly.

"You look beautiful, Hermione."

"Says the naked man I just slept with in my bed," she said with a raised eyebrow.

Draco quickly turned to the side of the bed and approached her in all of his nudity, taking her shoulders in his hands. He looked her dead in her eyes, meaning every word he was going to say to her, and praying to Merlin that she believed it too.

"Hermione, you look stunning. Every man at that ball will be jealous of Smith. Hell, I'm even jealous of that stupid fruitcake…" Draco said. His mission was a success: she had smiled.

"Yes, but I already knew you were jealous of Zac," she giggled.

"Now you know that everyone else will be too," he said and kissed her forehead, pulling her into a hug. The fabric of the dress felt odd against his skin since what he had been feeling for the past few minutes had been bare skin against his.

"Thank you," she wrapped her arms around his back, offering him a smile before backing away. "I really should be going."

"Yeah," Draco said and pulled on his boxers and pants quickly. Afraid she had upset him, Hermione watched intently and sorrowfully as he did so.

"I'm sorry I have to go, Draco."

"Don't be," Draco said and smiled at her. A genuine smile. One she had only seen a few times before. "You have too, and if you didn't, I would probably have McGonagall beating down this door demanding if I had killed you or something… And we definitely don't want her seeing me naked. _I_ don't want her seeing me naked."

Hermione stiffened a laugh as she heard a knock on the dorm door. "Coming!" she yelled before turning back to Draco. "Thank you… again."

Draco didn't reply but hung behind in her room out of sight while she walked up to the door. He heard Smith's irritating voice and could only try to push down the rage building up in his chest. The act of love making signified a bond between the two parties, and if Hermione had been Pureblood, it would be his way of making her his own. However, he was forced to watch as the witch he had just made love too, got dolled up and taken away from him by another man.

If their situation had been different and somewhat normal (meaning they weren't at war and that Hermione would be Pureblood), Draco wished he could take her home as he was supposed to, and introduce her to his parents. He was certain his mother would adore Hermione – she reminded him in so many ways of her. His father would be a different story. Draco found himself lost in his thoughts as he slumped on the couch in the middle of their common room. He lit a fire in the fireplace and adjusted some of the garland that Hermione had hung up for Christmas decorations. Then, he grabbed the letter from Potter she had received and began studying it again. He would much rather be lost in his thoughts about Potter and Weasley than his mind wandering to what horrible things Smith would try to pull on Hermione tonight.


	18. Chapter 18

_Thank you all for the reviews thus far, keep em coming! I have serious goals for this story. I wanna do 10,000 views before the end of September. Can we do that?! :D I promise I'll keep updating! And I have a certain area of where I want the story to end but it won't be for a long while. I really like how Draco has developed as well, you'll find he's still pompous but also very tender towards Hermione. I am bringing Zabini into this as well. If there are any other characters you want to see, please let me know! :D Review my dears._

Chapter 18:

It was still snowing when Hermione left her room with Zac that evening. He was dressed in his best dress robes, a wonderful looking black suit with a white undershirt, buttoned, with a bow tie around his neck. His hair was tame, the blonde fading into a deep brown since they started their first semester. His blue eyes were almost as large as the moon that fell over Hogwarts when he saw Hermione. A part of her was uneasy as she approached him, only because she had just slept with the Slytherin not ten feet away from her. She imagined that this was what Parvati had felt like when she was seeing Michael Corner and had cheated on him with Cormack. Oh, the dread that filled Hermione was horrid, and she almost thought about turning right back into her room and staying there, contently in the arms of the man Zac knew nothing about. But, as Draco had reminded her: her presence was mandatory.

"Wow, Hermione, just wow," Zac swooned and offered her his arm.

Why was it so easy with Zac? He made everything about their "relationship" so easy. The compliments he paid her, how he swooned over her every move, and even the casual way he offered Hermione his arm. It was a match made in heaven… Unfortunately, Hermione had already gotten a taste of the dark side and she liked it much better.

"Thanks," Hermione said with confidence as she took his arm. Her gut felt like it was going to burst into flames. "You look quite handsome yourself."

"Not as good as you," Zac winked. "Do you think I'll have you all to myself tonight?"

Hermione gulped but did a good job of hiding it. "I certainly hope so. There is a matter I need to discuss with you, though. Mr. Nott is in the castle."

Zac's lips pressed together. "Rowley Nott, the Death Eater?"

"Yes," Hermione nodded. "The very same. If he taunts me with anything, do not interfere. Promise me, Zacharias."

Zac raised an eyebrow at her using his full name. He knew it must be a serious matter. "Okay. Don't tell me it's because you think you have something to prove to him."

The two passed a few couples heading down to The Great Hall themselves. Hermione was pleased to see that she hadn't overdone it. Every woman there was sure to look beautiful, and every man there was sure to look as dashing as Zac did. Hermione felt her heart crumble as Zac held onto her hand tightly, knowing that soon, she would have to deny him their relationship. After tonight, she knew where her heart truly lied.

"No, it's McGonagall's orders," she replied and gave his hand a gentle squeeze. "Thank you for escorting me, Zac."

"It is my pleasure, Hermione," Zac smiled his breathtaking smile down at her and it only made her world shatter more.

When the two entered the Great Hall, they were pleased to see the row of teachers standing at the pillar in front of them along with all of the students dressed in their best wear. Hermione smiled and waved at her friends; Ginny had gone with Seamus (and she looked stunning in her long and lace lavender dress; Seamus looked remarkably normal in his white tuxedo with a black bow tie), Neville had gone with Hannah Abbott (she wore a long dress with a black sweetheart bodice and a light pink skirt that just touched the floor while Neville sported an all-black tuxedo with a black tie and shirt), Ernie Macmillian had gone with Lavender Brown (Lavender had worn a long light blue dress that mirrored the water in the fountain in the center of the room, and Ernie sported an all-white tuxedo with a blue tie matching Lavender's dress), and the last couple Hermione caught sight of before being turned to face the crowd was Luna and Theo… It had surprised her greatly when she saw them together. Luna wore her typical yellow sundress with flowers in her hair and a charm to keep away Nargles while Theo was dressed in black with a white tie. Hermione was shocked at the couple's pairing but contained her surprise as Zac turned her to face everyone.

As McGonagall addressed the students and teachers alike, Hermione felt something off. Zac must have noticed as well because his stance was uneasy. Her hazel eyes wandered over the crowd of students, and noticed Nott and Malfoy Seniors to her far left. Her heart began to beat faster as she studied the father of the man she had just bedded, not realizing how much Draco resembled him. Lucius looked over the students with his normal perpetual glare, not causing harm but not straying away from it. He wasn't to be worried about; even as Voldemort's most loyal, Hermione knew he would not make a scene at the castle, especially now. It was Rowley Nott she was more worried about. The last time she had seen the man was in the Department of Mysteries when he had hexed her, and the only good look she had gotten at him was after Sirius had hexed him and his mask had come flying off. He looked more cleaned up now than what he had two years ago, although his dark and possessive demeanor had not changed. She felt a lump in her throat at the memory and quickly looked onward at her classmates before tears filled her eyes.

Hermione met eyes with Seamus and Neville, knowing both of them had spotted the two Death Eaters in their Hall. Neville caught Hermione's eye and led hers to Arthur and Remus, who were standing to her far right. A sigh of relief caught in her throat as she noticed the two as well as Kingsley. They were safer than they had been before. But, the question still remained in her mind: Why were the Death Eaters here if they didn't plan to attack? When McGonagall was done with her speech and allowed the students to begin dancing, Zac led her out on the floor, but Hermione could tell his face was just a mask as they spun and twirled.

"I know what you're thinking," Zac said as he eyed the two men. "I'm thinking the exact same thing."

"They wouldn't dare cause a scene," Hermione said, hoping to convince not only Zac but herself as well. "They're too many Order Members here and they appear to be alone. They can't do anything yet anyway as long as the Ministry is still fully functioning."

"Why is Nott here? Malfoy I understand, but Nott?" Zac asked as he spun Hermione.

She laid her hand on his shoulder when she came to a halt and they fell into step once more. "Nott came for Theodore. It is my understanding that Theo isn't leaving, though."

"I wouldn't either," Zac said as they moved past Neville. The song ended and Neville allowed Hannah to go off to Seamus and he tapped Zac on the shoulder.

"May I?" he offered a little bow to Hermione. She couldn't help but giggle.

"Of course, Longbottom, just be sure to return her in one piece," Zac laughed and took Ginny off Neville's hands. "My, my, Weasley, you sure look stunning…"

Neville took up arms with Hermione and they fell into step quickly. Normally, her dances with Neville would have been most friendly, but this one had a much deeper meaning. She knew he was here to discuss the Death Eaters and maybe shed some light on the situation.

"I don't like it, Hermione," he said as they moved across the floor.

"I don't either. Zac was just saying the same thing," Hermione met eyes with Nott from across the room and she felt her blood boil. "They're watching us."

"Aye, probably planning," Seamus said as he passed the couple with Hannah. "Scouting us out, mark my words."

"Seamus is probably right," Neville nodded in agreement. The two couples turned so they could dance and speak without being overheard. "They're planning something, but the question is what?"

"That's always the question with Death Eaters," Hermione said softly, then got an idea. "Neville, I'm sorry, will you excuse me for a moment?"

"Of course, Hermione. Where are you going?" Neville asked as she dropped his hand.

"I just had an idea," she murmured as she left the Great Hall hurriedly.

McGonagall's eyes followed Hermione as she left. She was in mid-dance with Snape, who always raised an eyebrow. Both of them knew that she what she was doing and where she was going, and they couldn't interfere.

"This is the beginning of the turn, Severus," she said quietly.

"I wouldn't be so certain. Or, how do you say it? Put all your eggs into one basket," Snape replied, his eyebrow still raised. "There is a high probability that your plan will not work."

"I have faith in both of them, and that is all you need to comprehend," McGonagall bit back as she watched Hermione turn the corner out of the Hall.

* * *

Hermione swung open the dorm to her door to find Draco on the couch with a book in his hand and a sheet of parchment. He barely had time to process that she had come back before words started spewing out of her mouth.

"Your father is here with Nott. Why are they here?" Hermione demanded.

Draco's eyebrows shot up as he stood up carefully, setting the book down beside him. "If my father is here, then the Death Eaters are planning something…"

"I know that, Draco, but we need to know what they are planning," Hermione practically begged him as Draco began pacing. She watched him hungrily as he put his hands behind his back, deep in thought. "Talk to me, Draco. What are you thinking?"

Draco bit his lip before speaking. "My father came with Nott, which means that You-Know-Who probably sent them to spy."

"I gathered that already too! I have to have more detail than that!" Hermione said shrilly, in her most commandeering/motherly tone she could muster. "You sat in on their meetings! Did they mention anything at all about taking over the Ministry or taking over Hogwarts?"

"Of course they did, that's the ultimate goal, Hermione!" Draco said and gestured towards her. "If father is here then he is making sure that their plan goes as they expected."

"So something is going to happen tonight?" Hermione asked, her heart and head whirling at a million miles an hour. No, not tonight… please, Merlin, not tonight. She wasn't ready; no one was ready!

"More-than-likely," Draco replied as he paced. "They're not foolish enough to take over the entire school, so it has to be something on a smaller scale."

"Or are they?" Hermione whispered as a blue light appeared outside her window. Within seconds, a small white snow fox was in her room standing directly between Hermione and Draco. It turned to Hermione and cocked its head. She could have sworn her heart stopped beating as a feminine voice began to fill the room.

"He's coming."

Those two words were enough to make Hermione want to scream and leave the castle for good. Draco, on the other hand, had stared long and hard at the spot where the fox had just vanished, his heart in his throat. The Patronus was his mothers. It was her voice. Narcissa Malfoy had sent Hermione the Patronus to warn _her,_ a Muggleborn, that Voldemort was coming. His eyes looked up to the girl in front of him, his grey eyes stormy and unreadable.

"Who was that?" she demanded as Draco immediately ran to his room and threw on a pair of jeans and a black shirt.

"My wand, where is my wand?" he demanded, cutting Hermione off and going to the parchment Harry and Ron had sent. He threw it in the fire immediately and began to stack books and clothes in piles.

"Draco, who _was that?"_ Hermione demanded again, close on his heels. "Why did you throw that away? Draco, what the hell is this? What do you know that I don't?"

Draco marched into her room and began to root through her drawers to find his wand. Hermione, too in shock to stop him, stood in her doorway, waiting for a reply.

"The Patronus was my mothers," he replied. The third drawer down from the bottom was where he found his wand in an embroidered red box for safekeeping. He opened the box quickly and grabbed his wand, thankful to feel magic soaring through his fingers again.

"Your _mother's?_ " Hermione whispered as Draco turned to face her. He held his wand to her and quickly transfigured her dress into jeans, a tan sweater, and a black peacoat.

"We need to leave, _now,"_ Draco commanded. "We have to warn everyone that he's coming."

"Why would your mother send me a Patronus?" Hermione demanded, following him out into the common room. She grabbed her beaded bag from her dresser and began the books and clothing into it. She had everything she possibly needed packed since the beginning of the summer, but she didn't think she would actually need it until now.

"She's on the Order's side, I'm guessing. Probably got fed up with my father's shit," Draco replied and grabbed a shirt. He transfigured it into a coat for himself and threw it over his shoulders. Hermione had never been so scared in her life as she looked at the Slytherin in front of her. "Tell me you lot had a plan for when he attacked."

"Well, of course, but –"

Draco rolled his eyes and made his way to the door. "Hermione, we need to leave now."

"I can't just let you walk out there, everyone thinks you're dead!" she exclaimed, realizing how insane this really was.

"It's not going to matter if I am dead or alive in about twenty minutes when You-Know-Who gets here. We need to leave, Hermione, we need to warn everyone," Draco said for what he thought was the millionth time. "I know his tactics, I know what he's about to do. You have to trust me, Hermione. Do you trust me?"

Hermione only nodded and allowed Draco to step closer to the door. She whispered the charm to lower the wards and carefully opened the door, not knowing what laid in the corridor. Draco looked outside and freely stepped foot into the hallway he was so familiar with. He breathed in the cool air and sighed, looking at the deserted corridor. He turned to Hermione, and looked her dead in the eyes, knowing that if they didn't make it through this, he needed her to know.

"If my father or any Death Eater sees you with me, you will be a target. If they catch you, regardless, they will do terrible things to you. You won't survive it. I need you to know that if something happens tonight and I never see you again…" Draco trailed off, not bringing himself to say the words he so desperately wanted to tell her.

But, Hermione understood. "I know."

Draco gave her a lingering look before both of them bolted down the hallway. Hermione cast a Patronus out of her wand, thinking solely of knowing that Draco loved her, and the otter swam gracefully through the air and around the corner. She had just alerted McGonagall and the DA members of the oncoming threat. As they approached the Hall, the music had stopped and the students were in a hustle to leave the area. Hermione, knowing that Draco was not supposed to be seen, kept him pressed up against the wall, hidden out of view, until she saw a familiar face in the crowd.

"THEO!" she bellowed, and Theo's head snapped in their direction. He dodged terrified students and in the commotion, hadn't noticed that Draco stood to his right. When he did, he greeted his friend with a handshake, a look of happiness on his face, despite the circumstances.

"Long time no see, mate," he said and clapped Draco on the back. "It's my job to see you out of here."

"No, I need to stay and fight," Draco insisted, turning to Hermione for support but she just shook her head. It was at that moment that McGonagall and Snape found the trio.

"Ah, Mr. Malfoy, good to see you're prepared," McGonagall said with a side glance to Snape who, although he wanted to roll his eyes, strained greatly.

"I need to stay and fight," Draco repeated to the Headmistress, dismissing Theo and Hermione's protests completely.

"No," McGonagall commanded sternly. "You will leave the castle at once and Mr. Nott will accompany you. You know as well as I do that if your father finds you alive, he will single-handedly kill you and every person in this castle."

Draco couldn't argue with her because he knew she was right. "Where is my father now?"

"He left, along with Theodore's father," McGonagall replied with a look at the two Slytherins. "We will not be holding the castle tonight, Mr. Malfoy. This is all part of our plan."

"Plan? What plan?" demanded Draco, now looking back and forth between his Godfather and the Headmistress.

"Draco, I will explain later, please you need to leave with Theo right now," Hermione pleaded with him. She turned him to face her and put both of her hands on his shoulders.

"No, this is bullshit, what plan?" Draco practically yelled, and if there wasn't already screaming and yelling, someone might have heard him.

"Draco, please," Hermione begged. Finally, Draco looked down at her, his eyes wide and menacing but they softened as her hands cupped his cheeks. "I will explain it to you when I see you again. Please, go with Theo."

"Hermione –"

"Go, Draco, now," Hermione commanded. It was that moment that Draco surrendered to his fate, unknowing of what it could possibly be.

"C'mon, mate," Theo took his arm and led him down the hallway. McGonagall, Snape, and Hermione watched them until they were out of sight.

"You need to go too, Miss Granger," Snape said. Hermione turned to him, about to start the same argument Draco had, but Snape's glare shot her down. "If they capture you, which they inevitably will if you stay, they will use Legimency on you and see your relationship with Malfoy. They will use you to lure him out of hiding. They will rape you, torture you, and kill you."

Hermione couldn't bear the thought of any of that happening to her, but knew damn well it would. She looked to the Headmistress and took a deep breath. McGonagall held out a golden necklace to her, half covered with a cloth. Hermione took it, knowing it was a Portkey, but didn't know to where.

"Go out beyond the walls of the castle, and use this Portkey," McGonagall commanded her. "Do not ask questions, just get yourself as far away from here as possible. Do you understand?"

Hermione nodded and tore down the same hallway Draco and Theo had gone down. She didn't know what Theo's plan was to get Draco safely out of Hogwarts, but she knew she had to leave as well. She pushed past the students rushing to get to safety until she heard her name being called from the crowd. She turned to the voice to see Zac, dressed in casual clothes now, yelling her name and trying to reach her through the sea of students. Hermione knew she couldn't go to him, she couldn't waste any time getting off the grounds. She met his eyes and shook her head before bounding the other direction.

She exited to the east, coming out by the pillars leading down to Hagrid's hut and the Whomping Willow. The air was cold against her face, and it was still snowing. It seemed like too much of a peaceful night for all of this to suddenly be happening. She sprinted down the side of the hill, almost tripping and falling a number of times. Hermione never stopped to look back, just clutched her wand in one hand and the Portkey in the other. Her hair was a mess around her, and her skin stung from the cold, but she didn't notice nor did she care. She couldn't stop running until she was a few feet into the Forbidden Forest where she finally crouched down in the snow and summoned her Patronus.

"Find Harry," she begged the otter. It looked at her skeptically. "Tell him Voldemort has made a move on the castle and the Ministry has fallen. Tell him I need to find him. Go!"

The otter swam through the air as soon as Hermione dismissed it, its bright light fading through the trees as it went upon its mission to find Harry. The portkey was hot in her hand as Hermione took one last lingering look at Hogwarts, seeing the castle looked so peaceful but knew of the chaos inside. She prayed a prayer that Hogwarts would be safe, that Draco would be safe, and that she would be safe, and then touched the Portkey, her feet leaving the ground she stood on not two seconds prior.

* * *

Draco landed with Theo in a snow-covered garden that was overflowing with juniper berry bushes. He coughed after hitting the ground hard, and looked around for any indication of where he may be. He didn't recognize it, but he felt a magical signature he was familiar with. Theo helped him to his feet, and when Draco's eyes focused, he saw he was behind a large house, not as big as the manor, but not as small as Hermione's in London. He looked skeptically at Theo, his eyes demanding an explanation.

"Just trust me, mate," Theo said and walked towards the door at the back of the house that was illuminated.

It swung open to reveal three women, one of which Draco had seen only twice before, one he had never seen before but resembled his mother, and the other… had him in her arms already was sobbing into his shoulder, as any mother would. Draco wrapped his arms around his mother and held her tightly, never happier in his entire life to see her until this moment. He allowed himself to cry then, and Malfoy's never let themselves cry. But, this was his mother… and he knew that she didn't care if her dress got wet because her son was ecstatic to see her for the first time in a year.

"Draco, thank goodness," Narcissa whispered through teary eyes as she pulled back to stare at her only son. "How I've missed you, son."

"Mother," Draco said sheepishly, but with a smile on his face. "Can't say I missed your teary hugs every time I came home for break, though."

Narcissa laughed at her son's humor and put her arm around him to lead him inside. "Theo, love! How are you?"

Theo looked upon the woman who had practically raised him since his mother died with love and compassion. "Just fine, ma'am. Better now."

"Good, I am so glad to know both of you are safe," Narcissa led the two boys over to the two women standing in the doorway. Draco's eyes fell upon them as introductions were made. "Draco, this is your Aunt Andromeda and your cousin, Nymphadora."

Draco suddenly realized why he had never met the two ladies in front of him. His Aunt had been shamed and disowned for marrying a Muggleborn, Ted Tonks, he believed his name was. And the lady to his Aunt's right must have been their daughter. They both looked delighted to see him, however. It was an awkward situation to be in, none-the-less. He bid them hello, unsure of how to act around his new-found family members. As soon as they were inside, Draco took in the warmth that was his Aunt's home. The colors in the rooms were all warm tones, reds, yellows, oranges, and blues. They were most unlike the manor, which was all black and silver. Narcissa ushered her son into a chair at the long dining room table to which Draco sat all while staring at the company around him. As grateful as he was to see his mother again, he had about a million questions that needed to be answered.

Andromeda set a steaming glass of hot chocolate in front of him, and his thoughts drifted to Hermione. Suddenly, his heart hurt too much and he focused his attention back to his mother.

"I'm sure you have a lot of questions, sweetheart," came her understanding tone. The one that she did when she knew Draco was full of anger and she was trying to get him to calm down. The most recent time that happened was when he was forced to take the Mark. He remembered how he had passed out because of the pain; it had been the most unbearable in his life. She had nursed him back to health with healing potions and Dreamless Sleep for almost four days. It was a memory he wouldn't soon forget.

"I don't know where to begin," Draco eyed his Aunt and cousin who were sitting across from him, eagerly awaiting his questions. "How did you end up coinciding with the Order?"

Narcissa sighed. She knew that would have been the first question. "Your father has grown completely mentally unstable. He devotes himself to serve the Dark Lord and forgot where his loyalties truly lie, which is with you and I. After I saw my son take the Dark Mark and handed over to the Dark Lord like some toy, I knew it was time to act."

Draco had always admired his mother, but he never thought she would take these kinds of measures. He sat in silence and allowed her to continue.

"I left the Manor and went straight to your Godfather. We made an Unbreakable Vow to which he would protect you," Narcissa explained. It dawned on the young Malfoy only then that that was why Snape had killed Dumbledore that fateful night. His eyes widened and he stared at his mother; everything was beginning to make sense. "He pointed me to the Order, assuring me that they would help. You must understand my precautions, Draco. Pledging my allegiance to the enemy would have me killed or worse if your father or the Dark Lord ever came to know about it. However, when Severus told us that you had perished the night Dumbledore had died, I knew something was amiss. Your father… didn't grieve as I did. He accepted it and moved onto the next task that was given to him. It was his way of coping, Draco, so do not be angry with him. I had to know for certain that you were dead. It is just the possessiveness that is a mother and the determination that is a Black. They did not present us with a body, just an empty marble casket which we lowered into the graveyard at the Manor. I went to Minerva and explained the situation. She pledged that the Order would help me. I knew at that point going back to the Manor would no longer be safe, so I contacted Andromeda. She has been gracious enough to allow me to stay with her."

"Father just let you up and disappear?" Draco asked doubtfully.

"I told him I would be out of the country for quite some time," Narcissa explained with a chuckle. "I think he was more than happy so he could hold his meetings without my interference."

Draco nodded. "Did they ever make you take the Mark?"

"No. I was their bargaining tool," Narcissa explained and let her eyes drift down to the table. "It was how Lucius was kept in line. If he didn't succeed, my life would be put on the line."

"I remember," Draco said bitterly. And remember, he did. His mother was Voldemort's number one bargaining tool. Her life was threatened on multiple occasions, and she had been tortured on more than one. It was the worst scenario for a young man to watch Death Eaters torture his mother, but Draco had been forced too. The resentment he had for Voldemort was overpowering. "How did you know I was alive?"

"To your Father's ignorance, your name was still on the tapestry," Narcissa explained. Draco's eyebrows narrowed. How could his father have missed such a crucial detail? "And the magic of the House Black runs deeper than the Malfoy's. I would have known if you had perished, Draco. Those two things combined with the Order's cooperation with me led me to believe that you were alive, and they were protecting you."

"They had. I spent most of the summer with Snape, and then they moved me to stay with… Hermione Granger," Draco explained. "I stayed with her in Hogwarts until tonight. It wasn't the best experience."

"At least you're alive, and that's what matters," Narcissa reminded her son.

"How did you know to send your Patronus to Hermione?" Draco asked his mother. The two locked eyes, but Narcissa gestured towards Tonks.

Tonks only smiled. "Remember when Hermione went to Hogsmead not that long ago? She met Remus and I there and explained everything to us. She also mentioned something about a boy named Zacharias Smith…?" Just at the sound of his name, Draco clenched his teeth. Tonks's smile grew wider. "You like her, don't you?"

Theo stiffened a laugh as Draco turned a brilliant shade of red. It was only then that Narcissa knew what had gone on not four hours ago in the bedroom of one Hermione Granger. She looked at her son knowingly, but surprised. Draco turned to face his mother, sorrow in his eyes.

"She made me leave her behind," Draco said softly. Tonks immediately stood up.

"She's still in the castle?" Tonks demanded. Draco noticed her baby bump and watched her intently with his eyes. He felt attached to her, even though they had only just met.

"I don't know," Draco replied. "She made us leave, and the last I saw her, she was talking to Snape and McGonagall."

"I have to go, Mum," Tonks said to Andromeda and leaned down to kiss her cheek.

"Where are you going?" Theo asked, halfway standing up himself.

"Sit yourself back down, Nott. I can handle this," Tonks said dismissively, pulling out her wand. "Someone has to make sure Hermione got out of there before the Death Eaters came."

"You're _pregnant!_ " Theo exclaimed and looked to Andromeda for help. "She's PREGNANT!"

"Pregnant but not incapable of doing my job," Tonks said and with that, she was out the door.

"Quite a spit-fire, isn't she?" Narcissa asked her sister as she sipped her hot chocolate. Andromeda only rolled her eyes at her sister and turned her attention back to Draco.

"Do you have any information that could help us find Harry and Ron? I have a feeling that wherever they are, Hermione will be as well," she said with a smile.

Why didn't he think of that!? "There was a letter that Potter sent. We figured out that You-Know-Who was after The Elder Wand."

Narcissa lowered her glass and it landed on the table softly. She crossed her fingers. "That makes sense. He would need access to Hogwarts in order to remove The Elder Wand from Dumbledore's tomb."

"Dumbledore had The Elder Wand?" Theo asked. "I thought that was all just folklore. Sounds like a bunch of shit to me."

"Watch your language," Narcissa tilted her head towards Theo, who clamped his mouth shut under her deadly stare. "Obviously, Theodore, that is not the case."

"So, he gains access to Hogwarts tonight, gets The bloody Elder Wand, and then what? Overthrows the Ministry?" Draco asked.

"I would assume so," Narcissa replied. "Thicknesse is under the Imperius Curse, and has been for quite some time. If the Dark Lord has all the cards, then there's nothing stopping him from taking over Hogwarts as well. Although, I assume that would take more time since he has the entire school and board to go through."

"How long do you think Hogwarts has?" Andromeda asked.

Narcissa paused for a moment. "At least until the end of term."

Draco ran a hand over his chin thoughtfully. "I'm assuming the Order is going to swoop in and save the day then?"

"No," Andromeda shook her head. "In order to win this war, they must allow You-Know-Who to think he has all the cards. If he has the Ministry and Hogwarts, or so he thinks, then it makes it easier to come up with a plan to overthrow him. They'll act when the time is right for them to act."

"What if it's too late?" Draco asked, becoming increasingly frusterated with how the Order was doing their business.

"We have to trust them, sweetheart," Narcissa laid a hand over Draco's. "They are some of the brightest people I've ever had the pleasure of meeting."

For the next few hours, the four caught up and waited for Tonks' verdict on Hogwarts. When she finally sent word, it was close to one in the morning. A petite wolf landed in the middle of the table and spoke with Tonks' voice: " _Hermione is gone. Students are safe. Snape overtook as Headmaster."_ Draco breathed out a sigh of relief, but wondered why Snape was suddenly Headmaster. After Tonks' Patronus dissipated, Andromeda insisted it was time for bed, and the boys needed a good night's rest. She led the two Slytherins to their respective rooms and bid them goodnight. Narcissa lingered in Draco's for a moment, knowing something was troubling her son.

"Tell me, Draco. Are you worried about Hermione?" Narcissa asked.

Draco turned in his bed towards his mother. "I am. Mother, you must know this. She isn't Pureblood. She is a Muggle-born."

"Blood-status was never as important to me as it was to your father, Draco," Narcissa told her son and used her wand to turn out the lights in his room. "If you are happy, son, I am. Do try not to worry. I'm sure Miss Granger will be able to handle herself. After all, I hear she is the brightest witch of your age."

With a smile, Narcissa closed the door to his room. Draco allowed himself a small smile of content before drifting off into some much needed sleep.


	19. Chapter 19

_I know we had a dramatic turn of events last chapter, but I promise the plot-twist will be worth it! I felt the need to speed things along, especially at such a happy time in the year (aka Christmas) and a happy time in Draco and Hermione's life just to show how much Voldemort ruined lives. So, Draco has been reunited with his estranged family, Snape is now Headmaster at Hogwarts, and Hermione… Well, we don't know where she is. Let's find out! Review and view people! Tell your Harry Potter friends! Leave me nice reviews! :D Let's get this thing over 10,000!_

Chapter 19:

Hermione landed on her knees, gasping for breath. The first thing she saw was pavement and smelled the familiar smell of smog and someone cooking a home cooked meal. As she caught her breath, she looked up to see Grimmauld Place, and Molly Weasley rushing to the sidewalk to help her. Molly pulled Hermione onto her feet and assured her that everything was fine, and everyone was alright. Hermione nodded to acknowledge her words but there were other pressing matters that were on her mind besides the obvious.

Molly led her into the house, and the familiar smell of dust and must filled Hermione's nostrils. Kreacher was croaking in the background about what filth she was and how his mistress would be turning in her grave if she ever saw Hermione in the house. It wasn't something new or surprising, and Hermione was too tired and distraught to care about Kreacher and his well-being at the moment. Molly led her into the kitchen and sat her down at the table. The other Weasley's were there: Fred, George, and Ginny. They all were anxious and their tones proved that. As Hermione was gently lowered into her chair, Ginny gave her tightest hug Hermione had ever received.

"I am so glad you're okay," Ginny said in Hermione's hair. Hermione closed her eyes in comfort. "They were looking for you. The Death Eaters."

"You're quite the wanted witch," Fred said with a wink.

"Fred!" Molly smacked her son's arm and he winced. "Not now!"

"Oi, Mum, you can watch it with your hits. You'd think I got enough as a youngin," Fred retorted. Molly threatened to hit him one upside his head and he diverted his attention to his brother.

Hermione looked up at Molly. "What happened after I left?"

Molly took her seat across the table from Hermione and sighed with sadness. "Snape was instated as Headmaster. I'm afraid not all of the Muggleborns made it out safely, although Ginny and Neville were able to get quite a few away from the castle. The Ministry is falling, there is no doubt about that."

Hermione bit her lip anxiously. "Did anyone…"

"No, honey, no one died," Molly said and patted Hermione's hand. "The question for you is where to go from here."

"I need to find Harry and Ron," Hermione said. She saw the looks on the Weasley's faces drop, and she realized that they were relying on her for any information about the duo. "You don't know where they are either?"

"We haven't heard anything," George said. "Although, that isn't unlikely. Both of them are very forgetful blokes."

"Not about something like this," Hermione replied. "I sent a Patronus to find them… I just wonder where they could be."

"Right now, Hermione, it will do you no good worrying about them," Molly told her gently. "It is Christmas Eve, after all."

Hermione had been so raveled up in the matters that had just happened that she had completely forgotten that it was Christmas Eve. She noticed that the house had been decorated and there was a large tree in the sitting room with presents underneath of it. She looked from the tree to Molly, and then crossed the table to give the woman a hug. For seven years, she had been a second mother to her, and here she was yet again, putting Hermione's needs before her own. Molly hugged her back with tears in her eyes, knowing this would be one of the hardest parts before the war.

"Thank you," Hermione thanked her softly. "I just… can't believe all this happened."

"We all can't, dear, they weren't expected to make a move so soon," Molly said and pulled back. She studied Hermione's face. "Something else is troubling you, dear."

The mother witch knew it wasn't about what had just happened at Hogwarts, or that they were having a very diluted Christmas. It was something very far out; she could tell by the look in Hermione's hazel eyes. In the years she had known the young girl, she only had this look when there was a secret she was hiding. But, Hermione, like Molly had reckoned she would, kept quiet and just shook her head.

"No, I'm just shaken up is all," Hermione told her and forced a smile. "Really Molly, I am fine."

"Alright, dear. You ought to get some rest, _all of you_ ," she barked at her children.

"We're of age, Mother, we will go to bed when we please," Fred said and crossed his arms in imitation of a toddler. "Besides, it's Christmas Eve!"

Molly rolled her eyes at the twins, but they landed on Ginny who had just began to protest. "No, Ginny! Upstairs, now!"

Hermione accompanied her friend up the stairs, Ginny making small talk the entire way. Ginny explained that after the attack on The Burrow, it wasn't safe there anymore. Grimmuald Place was still Headquarters, and only Harry was Secret Keeper, so the Death Eaters wouldn't be able to find them there regardless. The Weasley's had even more status as Blood-Traitors, and they would be hunted down and made examples of as well. Arthur had only devoted his time to serving the Order and keeping his job at the Ministry, and had come to be known as one of the main protectors. Ginny asked if Hermione was missing Zac, and knowing that only a few people knew she had even been hosting Draco for the past six months and the Weasley's probably didn't know, Hermione agreed that she was worried about what could've happened him. Ginny promised to get word to him right away, and to keep up with playing appearances, Hermione thanked her and retreated to her room.

It was the room she had spent many nights in, listening in on the Order and planning continuously. It was familiar, still lined with the sheets she had left and there were even some clothes in the old dresser propped against the wall. She closed the door and couldn't do anything but sit on her bed crossed-legged and clutch at her heart. Merlin, it hurt. It hurt so badly. If she had taken Draco with her, she would have… But, she couldn't have. Tonight had been arguably the best and worst nights of her life. As she sat contemplating everything that had just happened, she realized for the first time that she was at a loss. She didn't know what to do or where to start. She hadn't the slightest clue where Harry and Ron were, and neither did the Order. She hadn't the slightest idea where Draco was either, and that's what scared her most.

She sat in silence for what seemed like hours, until the music outside faded and Fred and George's bantering ceased. She had cried, she had screamed, and she had thrown things around her room, reminding herself of the Slytherin when he lost his temper. But, she was normally composed. This had gotten to her, and she was slowly spiraling out of control. She found herself in the middle of the floor when a sparkling blue light caught in her perioral vision. A gorgeous stag came bounding through the window and landed in front of her, offering her a small bow.

 _"Godric's Hollow"_ was all Harry's voice said.

Hermione knew at that instant that she needed to leave. Quickly, she ran to her desk and scribbled a note for the Weasley's telling them that she had located Harry and Ron and would be joining them. She apologized for any inconvenience and assured them that she would be safe. She grabbed her wand and her beaded bag and snuck down the stairs quietly, closing Ginny's door as she went. Kreacher didn't even notice her as she crept out the door, and closed it behind her. She moved past the Anti-Apparation wards and into the middle of the lighted Muggle Street.

She savored the fresh air and street lights one more time as she looked both ways to make sure no one was watching her. The wind was cool, brushing against her face as she looked upon the empty lot in front of her, cursing Harry for choosing to visit the spot his parents were buried, and then thought hard about Godric's Hollow before leaving Grimmauld Place for good.

* * *

Draco awoke the next morning with no recollection of it being Christmas Morning. Except when Theo was bouncing up and down in his bed to wake him up telling him it was Christmas, and he should be excited, and some other stupid things Draco couldn't remember. But, he wanted to punch Theo at the moment… badly. This had been the first night in many months that Draco had slept decently (without Hermione by his side). So, he swung around and attempted to hit Theo square in the mouth but ended up falling out of the bed instead, to Theo's complete amusement.

"C'mon, mate! Your mum gave me orders to come wake up your lazy ass!" Theo said and nudged Draco's body with his foot.

"Bugger off, Theo!" Draco groaned. He never was an early riser, although when he raised his head to look out the window, sunlight streamed in.

"It's almost ten in the morning, we've been waiting for you for ages, and I really want Andromeda's cinnamon rolls," Theo shrugged and kicked him once again for good measure.

Draco rolled his eyes as he got to his feet, and quickly dressed with the delightful smell of food and burning cherry wood filling his nostrils. He had chosen to wear black pants and a Quidditch shirt, mirroring Theo's ensemble. Theo had talked to him about how grateful he was not to be with his father that day and that he would gladly take his mother's persistence for company than his father's evil ways. The two boys approached the kitchen and Draco's stomach rumbled terribly loud.

"Good morning, love!" Narcissa, dressed in a dark green dress and regal as always, came from around the table and gave her son a kiss on the cheek… and Theo, without his complaining first. "I take it you slept well?"

"Very," Draco said and sat down at his place at the set table. It was just the four of them that morning he was informed: Tonks was with Remus and they would be over in the afternoon, and Ted was on Order business out of the country. His Aunt was busying herself in the kitchen with his mother as Theo and Draco began to discuss their next move.

"They were talking about you going back to the Manor," Theo said and took a sip of tea. Draco eyes his best friend cautiously as he spoke. "Double agent and all that."

"So, I'm just another Snape then?" Draco asked.

"Better that than continuing living in hiding for the rest of your life because everyone thinks you're dead," Theo shrugged. He got up, went to the stove (politely excusing himself from Narcissa's way), poured Draco a cup of tea, and set it in front of him.

"Both the Order and the Death Eaters think I'm dead, Theo. How could I just go waltzing back into the Manor without there being any questions asked?" Draco demanded and took a sip of tea. It was delightful and welcoming, and he couldn't help but wonder if Hermione was somewhere safe drinking tea right now as well…

"That's where your Mum comes in," Theo replied and gestured towards Narcissa in the kitchen. She only looked up then went back to flicking her wand, helping her sister make pancakes. "She is brilliant, you know that? If I had her for my Mum, maybe I would've turned out better."

"I practically raised you, Theodore, and you'd do best not to forget that, dear," Narcissa said over her shoulder. Theo winced and Draco smirked.

"So how does Mum tie into this?" Draco asked and took another sip of tea.

"Your Mum is on 'holiday', remember? Well, I guess the Order and her agreed that since tensions were already high, they could get a little higher. She saved you," Theo explained.

Draco's eyebrows raised. "Mum saves me? And brings me back to the Manor?"

"Like the faithful servant of Snake Eyes that she is," Theo nodded with a smile. "It's nearly foolproof."

Draco looked to his mother skeptically, knowing that if Voldemort ever found out the truth behind their little charade, both of them would receive the most brutal punishment. But, it just may work. He sipped his tea quietly after agreeing with Theo and waited until his Aunt and mother set breakfast down in front of the boys. There were cinnamon rolls (much to Theo's delight), eggs, pancakes, and jam. It was a Christmas feast for the four of them, who began eating after Andromeda said a quick prayer. Draco hadn't said a word while she had done it, but met Theo and his mother's eyes. Theo looked to them for explanation, but both of their eyes held daggers at him. Draco had noticed that when Hermione ate, she would say a quick prayer and do a weird symbol over her heart. He assumed it was just a weird Muggle tradition. Obviously, it had been passed onto his Aunt through Ted.

"So, when do we go back to the Manor?" asked Draco through a mouthful of pancakes.

"I was thinking in a few days," Narcissa replied, eyeing her son knowing she had taught him better than to stuff food down his throat like it was going out of style. She ate hers much more delicately.

"He'll probably use Occlumency," Draco pointed out. "And how did _you_ suddenly find me?"

"The story is that I am out of the country. Whilst I was out, I was kidnapped by none other than Shacklebolt and taken to where you were being held, to my 'astonishment'. We ended up being able to fight our way out, and apparate back to the Manor. Kingsley had instated the memory in my mind, and I will instate it into yours before we leave," Narcissa explained.

"Your mother is a smart woman, Draco," his Aunt reminded him. "Eat your eggs, now."

Draco didn't have to be told twice to eat. "So, what's our mission when we get there then? Double agents?"

"We keep an eye on things," Narcissa replied simply. "Theodore will go back to Hogwarts, and claim he was there over the break. McGonagall and Snape will provide backup for him. No strings left unattached."

Draco nodded as Theo tilted his head towards his friend and mouthed "I told you so." It was a nearly foolproof plan, but Draco had his contingencies about it, none the less. It was dangerous, and in his time "playing dead", he had very much enjoyed being away from the Dark Bastard. Some of the things he had witnessed last year had left their permanent mark on him, aside from the tattoo on his forearm. He hated that Theo sported it as well. But, it was what happened when their fathers were too insistent on making their "Lord" happy. They presented the boys as servants to him, to expand his army. Something Draco had no wish in participating in.

The breakfast went smoothly, and they chit-chatted about Theo's adventures and academics. The trio had many questions for Draco about his stay with Hermione, which he answered to the best of his abilities. It was Theo who was the most surprised that Draco admitted he was rather fond of Hermione. Given the way they were raised, and the consequences of Hermione and Draco's actions, it was nearly unbelievable. It was while they were discussing Hermione's home in Muggle London and her having to wipe her parents' memories when there came a ring from the other room.

"What in the bloody hell is that?" Draco demanded, looking around for the cause of the annoying sound.

Narcissa chuckled as Andromeda left the table. "A telephone, my dear. It is a Muggle contraption."

Theo and Draco's eyebrows went sky high.

"What the hell is it used for?" Draco asked, now covering his ears until it blatantly stopped.

"It is the Muggles' way of communicating with eachother, Draco," his mother explained to the boys and took another bite of her pancakes.

The two boys glanced at eachother and were tempted to say a snide comment about how inferior Muggles were, but it got the best of them when Andromeda appeared a few moments later with a very worried look on her face.

"I just received word from the Weasley's," she announced. Narcissa put down her utensils to listen. "Hermione made it to Grimmauld Place last night, but she was gone this morning. It appears she went after Ron and Harry."

Draco's mouth went dry. He cursed Hermione for being so brilliant; he knew that she wouldn't feel right leaving the Immortal Brat and the Weasel out to fend on their own, especially now that she wasn't tied to Hogwarts or on babysitting duty. He didn't know what to say, even though he knew everyone around him expected him to say something… anything.

"Did she say where she was going?" Narcissa asked, mostly for her son's favor.

"No," Andromeda shook her head. "I'm sorry, Draco."

"For what? Having my Mudblood girl – having Hermione being where no one will find her?" he barked, unsure of how to feel or how to react to the news. She was safe… Why couldn't she have just stayed with the Blood-Traitors and be safe? At least then he could go to her… Now, she could be out of the country or halfway around the world.

Narcissa patted her son's hand. "Draco, I think it's best if we go to the Manor today then."

Draco looked up at his mother, who stared back at him with knowing eyes. "She can't be caught, Mother. She just can't be."

"If she is as smart as you two say she is, I'm sure she will evade capture for at least a little while," Narcissa told her son. Draco nodded. "Come now, there is some preparing to do before we go back."

* * *

When Hermione landed in Godric's Hollow, she expected the boys to at least have used some form of concealment. They hadn't. Both of them had been standing outside of the church, waiting for her arrival. The looks on their faces were priceless when they saw her, but she was beyond mad, stalking right up to her friends and smacking Harry across his face, leveling his glasses to the point of almost breaking and falling off.

"Harry!" she hissed. "I taught you better than that! You are WANTED and you are walking around the place where your parents died and were buried without CONCEALMENT!"

"'Mione –" Ron started but Hermione put up a finger to him and he backed down.

"Don't even start with me, Ronald, I will get to you in a second. What were you thinking?!"

Harry put on his skewed glasses and sighed. "Hermione, it's Christmas Eve. And we… uh… we have to fill you in on some things. There's another reason why we are here." Hermione tapped her foot impatiently with her arms crossed over her chest. Harry looked sheepishly at Ron and scratched the back of his head. "When we were camping in a forest about three days ago, there were a group of Goblins that passed us. We overheard them saying something about the Sword of Gryffindor and how the one in Dumbledore's office was a fake. So, we began putting two and two together –"

"It was actually my idea –" Ron began before Hermione's deathly glare silenced him.

"The sword has the ability to destroy Horcruxes," Harry explained to Hermione, almost pleadingly. "I killed the Bassilisk with it, remember? And the venom is what destroyed the diary. The sword is embedded with the venom. So, Bathilda Bagshot wrote a book on Dumbledore, and all clues we have found point to her. That's how we knew about Grindewald. She lives here, Hermione."

Hermione's eyes softened as she realized what Harry was getting at. "You think that Dumbledore gave her the sword?"

"Yes," Harry nodded, smiling now that Hermione was understanding. "We just need to find her, that's all."

Hermione nodded and sighed as the trio stepped into pace with eachother, listening to the Christmas carols from the villagers in the church.

"So, what's Hogwarts been like, Hermione?" Ron asked, thinking it was safe to speak.

But, that just made Hermione's heart hurt. "It's uhm… Snape's Headmaster now, as of a few hours ago. It was overran with Death Eaters."

"Before that, I mean…"

"Oh, uh… it was fine, I guess," Hermione shrugged with as much nonchalance as she could muster. Harry looked to his side and noticed a few bruises on her neck to which his eyes narrowed.

"Hermione, what's that on your neck?" Harry asked.

Almost too quickly, Hermione threw her hand to the right side of her neck, the one Draco had favored his sucking on. "It must've gotten injured in the attack."

Harry's eyes searched over hers passively, knowing that was lying. For Ron's benefit, he was lucky that he wasn't so observing because he would've caught onto what Harry was. Hermione had been seeing someone, and sleeping with someone. Ron would not like that. Harry vowed he would ask Hermione later when his best friend wasn't around.

"I'm just glad you're safe," Harry offered her a smile. "We put a wreath on my parents grave, and saw the house… there are loads of messages there supporting us, Hermione. It's truly quite amazing."

"Of course people support you, Harry," Hermione said dismissively. "Not all witches and wizards want a world under the reign of Voldemort, you know."

"I know," Harry said as they rounded a corner. For a few blocks now, he had noticed that they were being followed, but hadn't alerted his friends. With one hand on his wand, he glanced backwards to see an old woman hobbling after them. "Ron, Hermione…"

Harry turned around completely with his friends. Ron backed up a few paces, but Hermione inched closer. The woman was old, and not dressed to be out in this weather. She had one what appeared to be an old dress, with a light coat on, and a scarf around her head. It was awfully cold for that type of wear, but Hermione paid it no mind. She recognized the woman from the pictures in her books. This was indeed Mrs. Bagshot.

"Miss Bagshot?" Hermione asked, her hand on her wand, but she didn't feel as though she needed it. "Miss Bagshot?"

The older woman only looked at the three and then beckoned them to follow her down the street. Harry had an odd feeling that she knew they were going to be coming. But, if she was indeed there to help them, then they couldn't leave her. Ron expressed some skeptics, but Harry shut it down immediately, telling his friend that Dumbledore must have known he would come here looking for the sword. It all seemed too right. The two boys followed Hermione and Mrs. Bagshot as they walked down the snow-covered streets, illuminated only be the streetlights and lights from the pub and church. Hermione wondered vaguely what it would've been like for Harry to grow up here, wondered if he would be in that church right now with his parents. He would've been.

Bathilda led them to her house, which looked a tad bit overgrown with weeds and vines creeping up the exterior of the house, even through the snow. Hermione took one look at Harry and Ron before following the old woman into the house. She crinkled her nose; it smelled of rotting flesh and mothballs. Wondering if the poor old woman had needed assistance, she helped her light a candle to illuminate the house. It was dirty, and looked like it hadn't been cleaned in quite some time.

"I don't like the looks of this, Harry," Ron said. "She lives worse than Fred and George, and that's saying something."

"She's just elderly, Ronald, don't be a prude," Hermione said and used her wand as a light to look around. "Miss Bagshot, did you know Albus Dumbledore?" The old woman just looked at Hermione unknowingly and Hermione couldn't help but feel terrible for her. "Do you have something for Harry?"

Harry had taken the liberty to look around the living area, also crinkling his nose at the smell of the decomposing meat. He noticed a photograph of a man who looked like the same one from his dream… the one who had stolen the wand from Gregorovitch. Curious, he took it off the mantle and saw that he indeed was Bagshot's Great Nephew. It was quite a small world. The old woman made her way to the stairs and beckoned Harry to come with her. He took a few steps towards her, but Hermione grabbed his arm, her anxiety kicking in full throttle.

"I don't know if you should go up there alone, Harry," Hermione whispered. She looked to Ron for support to which he nodded eagerly.

"She's right, mate," he told his best friend.

"It's fine," Harry insisted. "She probably was told to give the sword to me and me only. She won't do it with you two hovering over my shoulder."

Hermione sighed, seeing the logic in Harry's statement, and let his arm drop. Ron took out his wand and illuminated it as well, watching Harry go up the stairs with the old woman. He turned to look at Hermione, but she was intent on finding out more about this place.

"What do you think, Hermione?" Ron asked as Hermione looked to the pictures on the mantle and the books lying scattered across the floor.

"I think something isn't right," Hermione muttered, as she examined the perimeter.

"It's good to see you again," Ron offered with a smile to her back. "I did miss you, you know."

"Thanks, Ronald," she said as she bent down. There was a pool of something dark between the entryway to the dining area and the living area. She touched her finger to it and realized that it was blood. "Oh no…" The two began to hear rustling around upstairs, and a glass shatter against the floor. Within seconds, the two were up the stairs. "HARRY!"

Hermione rounded the corner to the room where the commotion was coming from, Ron on her heels. She gasped when she saw the elderly woman's body in a pile on the floor next to the bed and a giant snake wrapped around Harry, hissing at him in Parseltongue. Nagini. Harry was struggling, and she saw there were bite marks on his arm and his wand was across the room.

Hermione immediately shot a curse at the snake who unraveled itself from Harry and went straight for her. Harry grabbed a brick from where the wall had crumbled and smacked Nagini across the head. The snake fell to the ground hissing menacingly, undecided on who to come after for her next target. She lept at Harry once more, Harry falling to the ground, and Hermione and Ron cursing the snake once again, until she fell down to the living room below.

"Hermione, he's coming!" Harry yelled and grabbed his wand from the floor.

Nagini raised herself from the living quarters below to the trio, attempting to bind them together. Ron shouted a curse at the snake, but missed, blowing the dresser to wooden shards. It didn't stop Nagini, however, and Harry pulled Hermione across the bed next to the window. Ron joined the two, his wand pointed at the snake, whimpering. With no time to think and no time to act, Hermione blew the glass from the window out, shattering it below. They had to leave, and they had mere seconds before Voldemort would arrive. Through Harry's screaming and clutching his scar and Ron's profanities, she grabbed both of their hands, and Disapparated just as she saw a black cloak touch down on the floor in front of them.

* * *

Hermione landed them in the Forest of Dean, the only place she could think of at such quick notice. It was snowing there, and when she came too, all she could see was Harry withering on the ground screaming, clutching his scar and chest, and the blood from Nagini's bite staining the white snow beneath him. She immediately crouched down and moved Harry's hand to see the Locket had attached itself to his skin. It was burning him, and she could see the steam rising from Harry's flesh.

"Ronald! In my bag, there should be a bottle of Dittany!" she yelled. Ron frantically searched her bag while she removed the Locket with a severing charm and soothed Harry. "Harry, Harry, it's okay, it's off, it's off…" Ron handed her the bottle of Dittany and she uncorked it, applying the healing liquid to Harry's snake bites. They immediately sizzled together, to Hermione's delight. "Harry, it's done, it's done, Harry…"

Harry's eyes opened to see Hermione standing over him and Ron setting up a tent in the background. "Thank you, Hermione… I'm so sorry, I didn't…"

Hermione ran a hand through her best friend's hair and helped him to his feet. She took him to the tent where she and Ron laid him down in his bed, and pulled the blankets over him. He didn't protest, just looked excruciatingly angry with himself.

"I should've known, guys," Harry said softly. "She was speaking to me in Parlsetongue, that's why she didn't want you around. Voldemort must have known I would go there; he sent Nagini there to capture me until he got there."

"We didn't get out of there a second too soon, mate. I saw his cloak an instant before we came here," Ron said and sat on the side of Harry's bed. Harry only sighed as Ron pulled something out his pocket. It was Harry's wand; it was broken into three pieces. Hermione looked at it devastated, knowing it was broken beyond repair. "I'm sorry, Harry, the curse I cast rebounded and…"

"There was nothing you could've done," Harry replied and took the wand in his hands. "Can I just borrow you two's then while we're on watch?"

"Sure, Harry," Hermione agreed and Ron nodded.

"I'll take first watch," Ron said and got up, leaving his two friends alone. He squeezed Hermione's arm before he left, but Hermione only frowned.

Harry waited until he was out of earshot before turning his attention to Hermione. "I know you lied to me about those bruises."

Hermione only sighed, the last thing on her mind was that particular situation, one that had only happened literally a few hours prior. "Harry, now isn't the best time."

"I know you've had quite the day, but so have we. And I think I deserve to know, especially since the guy sitting ten feet away from you hasn't stopped talking about you since we left," Harry said and put the pieces of his wand on the table beside him. "Hermione, you owe me an explanation before Ron gets some sense and notices."

"I'll just cast a glamour charm…"

"Hermione, that's just bouncing around the issue. Who is he?" Harry pressed.

Hermione looked into his green eyes, and what Harry saw he did not like. He did not like it one bit. That look was reserved for when Hermione didn't want to tell him things, and if she did, he would not like it.

"Considering what just happened, I don't think anything can be worse than that," he pressed her harder, wanting to know who this man was.

Hermione bit her lip anxiously. "Before I tell you, Harry, you must understand that it has to stay between us until the time is right that we tell Ron."

"Is this guy that big of a git?" Harry asked with raised eyebrows.

Hermione looked down and fiddled with her fingers in her lap. "Yes, he is. Or so you two think, anyway."

"Let me guess," Harry said and Hermione's heart stopped. "Smith? Did he finally get you to go out with him?"

"Yes and no," Hermione said gently, thinking back to Zac's smile. "He pursued me, but we never did anything, no."

"Cormack? Ernie? Dean? _Seamus?_ " Harry began listing off people one by one, putting an extra emphasis on Seamus' name. Hermione shook her head no to all of them. "Then I give up, Hermione. I've named everyone who you would possibly go out with."

"He isn't someone who I would normally go out with. But, he's smart. Very intelligent. He's pompous, but I've grown on him. And he's grown on me," Hermione explained, never taking her eyes off of her fingers in her lap. She didn't think the day she would have to tell Harry about her bedding Draco Malfoy would come this soon. Normally, she was prepared for everything she did. But, the last few scenarios had proven that her life was taking a dramatic turn she wasn't sure she was ready for.

"That much is clear."

"He's on our side, Harry," Hermione said, now looking into her best friend's eyes again; this time she was pleading with him.

"I assumed so, Hermione," Harry said, with a few nods to ensure his listening. "Who is it?"

Hermione gulped. "Malfoy."

Harry's eyes bulged for a moment before he sat up straighter. She feared that he would call for Ron, but he didn't. Instead, he stared long and hard at Hermione, taking deep breaths to calm himself. She could see he was about to lose it but she prayed to Merlin he wouldn't, and he would at least try to understand.

"Malfoy? As in the Slytherin and my arch-enemy?" Harry repeated.

"The very same," Hermione dove into an explanation of the predicament.

She explained to him how the Order had forced him to stay with her, and had faked his death so he could be used as a weapon against Voldemort. She explained how he had treated her at first, but then how they had gotten used to one another. How he had become jealous of Zac's advances, and how he had helped uncover the Dark Magic surrounding Harry and Ron's letter to her. How intelligent he was, and how much he had helped Hermione help her friends, even though he didn't agree with it. She told Harry about how Pansy tried to kill her, how Draco hadn't realized that all of his friends were turning on him and going on to Voldemort's side. She explained how he had kissed her, three times, and his tempter tantrums because his pride was taking a severe beating by admitting his feelings about her. She recounted the story behind his Dark Mark, how he missed his mother, and how he hated Voldemort and hated his father for putting him in such a situation. She also told Harry about the terrible things he had witnessed, and how he wanted nothing to do with Voldemort ever again. Then, she recounted the events of tonight: how they had slept together and it was deliriously wonderful, and then how Lucius and Nott were in the castle and how she went to the only Death Eater she knew would know what was truly going on. She told Harry about how Draco's mother sent her a Patronus warning her about Voldemort coming, and how she was forced to allow Theo to take the man she loved away from her, not knowing if he was safe or where he was going. At the end of her rant, Harry just stared at her, contemplating everything she had just told him.

"Wow," Harry whispered. "It really puts our issues into perspective, doesn't it?"

"Think about if Ginny was in that same situation. You would feel like I do," Hermione said softly.

"I love Ginny, Hermione, you know that," Harry said. "And from what you're telling me, admit it or not, it seems like you love Malfoy too. I don't know why, and I don't want to know why, but if this is the path you choose, then that's your choice. I may not like it, but if you're happy…"

Hermione sighed. "Harry, I was supposed to marry Ron and have seven children and work at the Ministry and live a normal life. Now, I'm falling for a man who is a Death Eater and whose father is our enemy's biggest supporter. Even if we do survive the war, how will I know if Draco does?"

Harry cringed at Hermione calling Malfoy by his first name. "You'll know. And if Malfoy is as intelligent as you say he is, then you'll have to remind me to thank him when we cross paths again."

Hermione smiled at her friends words. "Thank you for understanding, Harry."

"I don't understand, Hermione. But, you're right. Let's keep this between us for awhile," Harry agreed with his fingers pinching the bridge of his nose. "I don't think Ron will take it as well as I did."


	20. Chapter 20

_Good evening guys! Thanks for all of your reviews (keep em coming!) and views. We're almost up to 8,000 now. Holy balls, that's a huge jump. Speaking of huge jumps, the last chapter was definitely my favorite to write so far. I had to stop because I didn't want to overwhelm you with a 10,000 word chapter, haha. But, what do you think of Narcissa's plan? Will it work? We'll see. ;)_ _ **Thank you pgoodrichboggs – They'll meet again before the Battle of Hogwarts. I have something special planned for them, and it'll show just how evil Voldemort is. Looonie – I plan to continue this story for some time, even after the war. It'll be truly quite something to watch these characters grow together over time**_

Chapter 20:

Narcissa had rehearsed the plan with Draco about a thousand times before she felt they were ready to Apparate back to the Manor. Andromeda and Theo had both tried to convince them to stay, but it was a useless cause. The two were going to do what they wanted: it was the Black in them. Andromeda used her wand to rip their clothing and add a few bruises and dirt to make the story believable. Draco had been gifted a scar from the top of his eyebrow to parallel with the bridge of his nose that was still fresh, and Narcissa had shaken out her hair so it looked like she had been through quite a fight. With the final touches done, the two stood before Theo and Andromeda, looking as though they had really been through a significant battle.

Andromeda used the charm to insert the fake memories into Draco's mind. He felt them seeping in as he closed his eyes, seeing the images of Shacklebolt and Lupin continuously interrogating him. They didn't use magic to torture him, but their fists. He saw himself thrown into a cellar where his mother had "found" him when she had been captured. The images of them reuniting were haunting, and the playback of their "escape" was even more terrible. None of it happened, but Voldemort was meant to think it did. But, it wasn't Voldemort Draco was worried about. It was his father. He had grieved over the loss of his son, or so his mother said, but what if the second Lucius saw Draco again, he used him as a pawn, another solider for his beloved "Master?" It made Draco's stomach sour to be given to another person in such a horrendous way.

"Are you ready, darling?" Narcissa asked her son.

"As ready as I'll ever be," Draco muttered. He looked to his Aunt, unsure of what to say. He wanted to say thanks, but it was unusual for a Malfoy… So, he just gave her a quick smile and hoped she understood what he couldn't say. She did, and she smiled back.

"You two better put on quite the show," Theo whistled. "I wish I could be there to see it."

"No, you don't, Theodore," Narcissa scolded him. "Make sure he goes back to Hogwarts."

"Not to worry, Cissy, I have the situation under control," Andromeda said with a pointed look to the young Master Nott beside her. "Be safe; I can't lose you two again."

"We will be," Narcissa promised her sister and squeezed her son's hand. "Thank you, Andromeda."

Andromeda waved as the two Apparated to the gates outside Malfoy Manor. Narcissa had warned Draco that there were likely to be patrols at all times outside the Manor, so their charade had to begin the moment that they landed. The mother and son landed clumsily outside the wards, Draco making himself limp as his mother held him. He was already regretting going through with this idea and was beginning to realize what a stupid plan this really was. But, they were too far into it now. He heard his mother screaming for help, and mentally congratulated her on being such a good actress. It was, after all, how she had put up with Voldemort and his father for all of these years…

It wasn't long before footsteps began approaching. Narcissa looked up into the gates knowing that Lucius had changed the wards not long after she left and she wasn't recognized to get through, and Draco certainly wouldn't be, considering everyone thought he was dead. She kept up her act, tears streaming down her face now, and she could feel the blood Andromeda had caused seep from a cut in her lip. It was early evening, and the sky around them was completely dark. But, even as the five men moved closer to her, she recognized her husband's form and stature. She saw him cast away the wards with a flick of his wand and his grey eyes, so much like his son's, stared down in shock at his wife and his son in her lap.

"Lucius…" Narcissa cried, trembling as she held Draco. Draco willed himself not to look at his father. It wasn't hard to do.

"Cissa, is that…?" Draco heard his father drop down to his level, his robes creating a vacuum that sucked the air away from Draco's lungs. "Draco! He's alive? What happened, Cissa?"

Narcissa stroked Draco's hair with shaky fingers. "He is alive. Not here, Lucius. It's not safe, we have to get inside!"

Lucius hovered Draco into the castle, while his wife and the men that accompanied him followed him into the Manor. Draco hung as limp as he could, not daring to open his eyes. He heard his father's footsteps, the ones he tried so memorize as a child, quickly ascend up a stairway. He knew where he was being taken: the dining room, on the long drawn out table that the Death Eaters used for their meetings. That meant Voldemort himself would inspect him. If that didn't send his anxiety into a spin, he didn't know what else could. Eventually, he felt his back on a hard and cool surface, and knew it was time to play his part well. Several seconds passed before he heard the Dark Bastard begin to speak.

"Well, well, Lucius. What do we have here?"

Voldemort's voice itself sent shivers down Draco's spine, and he tried not to tremble.

"My son and wife, My Lord," his father replied hastily.

"I see that, Lucius," came the smooth voice in reply. "Do you care to explain what happened, Narcissa?"

"Of course, my Lord," Draco heard his mother's shaky voice respond. "I was on Holiday out of the country in Norway visiting my Black family relatives, and I was kidnapped by a member of the Order, Kingsley Shacklebolt, I believe his name was. He took me somewhere, and I don't know where, but I was thrown into a cellar where I found Draco. We fought our way out and came here."

Voldemort was silent for a few moments and in those few moments, Draco panicked. He didn't know whether Voldemort would believe it or not, but he heard a faint whisper and knew that he was using Legimiency on his mother, just as he predicted Voldemort would. When the Dark Bastard saw that what she said was "true", he heard him praise her for being a good servant and gave Lucius permission to check his son over and heal him. Lucius and Narcissa both thanked the Dark Bastard over and over again and Draco felt himself being levitated into another room and lowered onto a soft mattress.

His mattress. His room. He bid himself to open his eyes now, and when he did, he felt calmer than he had in months. He was in his room, in his home, and it had been untouched. There were still the green and silver on the walls, the black armchair by his desk, and even some of his notes scattered about. His blankets were still in a neat pile next to his black dresser, and his trophies and achievements still on his desk. This was his safe space, and for the first time in a long time, he did feel… safe.

"Draco," Lucius said sharply as Draco "came too" and looked about himself. "Are you alright?"

"Yes, Father," Draco replied shakily, as he was just coming about using his voice again.

"Good. What bastard this to you? Tell me and I will make them wish they never lived!" Lucius demanded.

Draco took a good, hard look at his father. He looked weary, and not the man he was when Draco last saw him. The light had left his eyes; they reminded him very much of his own when he was beaten down and lost for hope. Lucius looked as though he had been tortured relentlessly, and still had faith in the being torturing him. There was something off about him; maybe his appearance or his mental state. But, Draco wasn't sure, and he definitely didn't want to find out.

"There were so many people there, Father…" Draco said wearily, almost dramatically.

"Lucius, let him rest," Narcissa laid a hand on his father's shoulder. Lucius didn't even acknowledge it, but continued to stare at his son in disbelief that he was actually in front of him.

"What are the extent of your injuries, Draco?" his father asked.

Draco pretended to wince as he sat up. "A few broken ribs."

"Good. Nothing some Skele-Gro won't fix," Lucius nodded curtly. "You'll be back doing the Dark Lord's bidding in no time at all."

With that and a nod to his wife, his father left the room, closing the door behind him. Draco put his act aside and took in his surroundings happily. Narcissa never thought she would see her son this ecstatic again – or even see him again – so it made her heart warm to see his father didn't affect him negatively. If he had, Draco had a good way of hiding it. Something she had taught him to do since he was a young boy.

"You look happy, darling," she commented as Draco stood up and opened the window.

He didn't care how cold it was outside. He loved breathing in the fresh air. "I am, mother."

"You need to go back into the meetings as soon as possible," Narcissa told her son. "I will have Spark fetch Skele-Gro for you, and some pain potions. You'll be able to be 'back to normal' by tomorrow morning."

Draco stared out the window, reality sinking over him. He wasn't at home on a break, and the world didn't magically rid itself of the becoming war. As he watched the snow fall, his mind drifted off into foreign places. He barely registered his mother walking from his bed and squeezing his shoulder. He didn't even notice when she left the room and closed the door. His eyes focused on the lake surrounding the back of his house, and how the evergreen and pines were iced over and looked magical. It was surreal, and he was free… He wondered about Hermione, and resented how much his heart missed her. Was she okay? At least she wasn't captured. If she was, she would be here and he would have known by now. A part of him knew she wasn't dead.

Draco pulled his wand out of his pocket and whispered the incantation to summon his Patronus. A large snow leopard bounded from his wand and turned to face him, waiting for its task. He hadn't thought this all the way through, but he knew what he wanted to say. To find Hermione and let her know that he was safe. The animal seemed to understand, and bounced out the window of Draco's room, twirling itself through the trees until it was a dim spark in the sky.

Even though his house-elf had come in and beckoned him to bed, the young man was lost in thoughts of Hermione's bed and warm hot chocolate. When Spark soothed her Master into taking the Skele-Gro, which tasted vile and like lumpy vomit, to heal the bones that weren't broken, Draco's mind wandered to thoughts of Hermione's smile and how she used that intelligent mind of hers. When Spark assured her Master that he would be okay, and that he had been through a lot worse, Draco couldn't help but agree. He patted his elf between her ears and smiled at her. His father had left a bad impression on Malfoy's about their attitudes towards their elves, but his mother had raised him to always be appreciative of Spark. She was a Black Family Elf, which means she only served members of the Black family, not the Malfoy's. Since Draco was half Black, he had grown up with Spark, and was quite fond of her.

"Thanks Sparky," he said softly.

"Sparky missed Master," she told him. "You be alright. Sleep now. Goodnight."

"Goodnight Sparky," Draco whispered and slid beneath his covers, desperately wishing he was still at Hogwarts snuggled in Hermione's sheets instead.

* * *

It was quite a few days before Hermione was able to take her watch, and she was quite glad to escape Ron's continual comments about how much he missed her. She had used a glamor charm to cover up the bruises on her neck, but with great reluctance. It was all she had to remind her of the six months spent with the Slytherin Prince. She had grabbed "The Life and Lies of Albus Dumbledore" off the table in the kitchen, bid the boys a goodnight, and went outside into the brisk air for some peace and to read.

She had set up wards surrounding their campsite, just in case they needed them. It wasn't very likely anyone knew where they were, but Hermione (unlike Harry and Ron), was always precautionary. Especially when it came to instances such as this. She cast a warming shield around herself and lowered herself to the base of a tree, covered herself with a wooly blanket, and began reading. The biography was written none other than Rita Seekter, and as vile as the woman was, the biography was just as meticulous. Hermione was almost certain that half of what the writing said wasn't true. As she was on the seventh chapter, she remembered what Dodge had said at Bill and Fleur's wedding the summer before: "Dumbledore was not the man you think he was."

Hermione slumped back against the tree, deep in thought, flipping through the pages of the book aimlessly until she stumbled upon a photograph of Dumbledore and the same man she saw from the photograph at Bagshot's cottage. They looked young and happy… They looked like they could have been best friends. But, when she read the caption below and saw who that man truly was, she was back in the tent in an instant, panting and throwing the book down on the table between Harry and Ron.

"Jesus 'Mione, what happened?" Ron asked, studying her.

"That's him," Hermione said breathlessly and pointed to the picture. "That's Grindelwald."

Harry took the book in his hands and looked the picture over. "It can't be. You can't possibly believe that Dumbledore helped Grindelwald, Hermione? He was an evil wizard."

"Harry's right, Dumbledore was a lot of things, but evil was not one of them," Ron said.

Hermione stared at the boys and couldn't stand their incompetence. "Harry, the proof is right there. The men in that picture look happy, they obviously weren't at war with one another like Dumbledore claims they were."

"I really don't believe that he would conspire with Dark Wizards," Harry shook his head. "Why are you believing this rubbish anyway?"

Hermione thought back to all the hours Draco and her had spent figuring out clues and trying to help her friends. She thought of all the information on Grindelwald she had recovered, but nothing pointed to Dumbledore. His name was never mentioned. She slumped down at the table and took the book in her hands again, studying the picture. That's when something caught her eye. Around both men's necks was a necklace… it was a symbol, a strange one. She narrowed her eyes; she had seen it before… but where?

"What are you looking at?" Harry asked, coming to peer over her shoulder.

"This symbol," Hermione replied softly, tracing her finger over it. "I've seen it before."

"It's a symbol, Hermione," Ron rolled his eyes.

"I'm sorry you never understood the importance of Ancient Runes, Ronald," Hermione snapped before thinking hard. "I'm going to figure out where I've seen this before. Something doesn't add up."

Hermione rummaged in her bag for her books about Ancient Runes and grabbed a few more, just in case. She retreated outside again, and wondered how the hell Harry and Ron had survived without her for this long. She couldn't believe they had gotten as far as they did. Even though the boys were trying to figure out where the Sword of Gryffindor was and how to get their hands on it, Hermione knew there was something up with this symbol and it took prescience over anything else.

She spent what felt like hours searching through the books using the tip of her wand for light, but couldn't find any information pertaining to it. Frustrated and confused, she didn't know where to go from here. It seemed as though that was the direction her life was taking now. Harry and Ron hadn't come to check on her, and she was quite thankful they had laid off their attacks at comforting her and telling her how happy they were she had come found them. She just needed to be alone; it was how she worked best anyway.

As Hermione was searching through the last book, a strand of light off in the distance caught her eye. She carefully put down the book and took off her blanket, raising her wand but whispering " _Nox_ " to put out the light. She crept towards the edge of her wards, past the tent, careful not to wake the sleeping boys. The wards stopped her towards the edge of the treeline, and Hermione realized that it was a Patronus. Torn between running inside or facing it, she decided to be brave and face it. It could do her no harm. So, she crouched down to its level and watched as it approached her, slowly now that she had come into view. It was a snow leopard, tracking the terrain with its heavy paws. She hadn't the slightest idea whose Patronus it could be, but beckoned it to her anyway.

As the animal approached her, it nuzzled against her outdrawn hand and spoke in Draco's voice: " _I'm safe. Hope you are too."_ With that, the animal took one look up into her eyes and dissipated into thin air. She heard footsteps behind her, and prayed to Merlin that it wasn't Ron. Harry sat down beside her cross-legged and looked at her with amusement.

"You weren't lying," he pointed out.

"You thought I was?" she rebutted with raised eyebrows.

"Who ever thought Malfoy's Patronus would be a leopard?" Harry wondered aloud.

Hermione hit his arm. "It's quite fitting, really. I'm glad he's safe."

"That's what it said to you?" Harry asked and leaned back into the ground so he was on his back completely.

"Yes," Hermione nodded, and gazed off into the forest. "I've been thinking, Harry. That symbol isn't in any of my Rune books. It's quite an oddity."

"Maybe it's not a Rune, Hermione," Harry shrugged. "Not all things can be found in books."

"Just because you and Ronald think that it doesn't mean I do," Hermione snipped back and wrapped her arms around her legs. She missed Draco something fierce, and it was beginning to physically hurt. "If it's not a Rune, what is it?"

"A symbol," Harry replied simply. "It may pertain to dark magic, if you truly believe that Dumbledore dabbled in it."

The gears in Hermione's brain began to click away, one at a time, faster and faster until she looked at Harry with wide eyes. "Oh my God."

Harry sat up in fright. "What?"

"Voldemort is after The Elder Wand," Hermione said and scrambled to her feet. Harry scrambled to his, never once hearing of this Elder Wand before in his life. But, with the fear Hermione had just instated in him, he realized it must have been extremely important.

Harry followed Hermione's quick pace to her books, where she grabbed them and the blanket and headed inside the tent with Harry on her heels. For the second time that night, she slammed her books on the table in front of the boys and sat down, trying to organize her thoughts and books. Ron asked Harry what was going on, to which he replied that he had no idea. But, Hermione's brain was in full throttle.

Draco had uncovered that Voldemort was after an all-powerful wand, probably because of the Twin Cores that his and Harry's shared. That way, this wand would be able to defeat Harry once and for all. But, that wasn't all. When Draco had read "The Tale of Three Brothers" to Hermione, she had noticed something on the pages of the book she had borrowed from McGonagall and never returned. She didn't think much of it because it was a children's book, but now, now she was beginning to realize that it meant something. She found the book and opened the cover… and there it was.

"That's the same symbol Dumbledore was wearing," Ron pointed out. "Why the bloody hell is it in a children's book?"

Hermione sat back in her chair and looked at Harry and Ron with a blank stare. "Harry, do you know what the Elder Wand is?"

"No…" Harry began only to have Ron cut him off.

"Mate, you've seriously never heard of it? The stick of Destiny? The Deathstick? It is an all-powerful wand. It was meant to destroy everything and anything," Ron explained. And Hermione nodded to Ron. "Why, 'Mione?"

Hermione sighed. "Voldemort is after that wand."

Ron's eyes widened and he fell back in his chair, slumped in it like a toddler. "How do you reckon?"

"I figured it out with some help," Hermione told Ron, locking her eyes with his for the first time since she had been back. "Voldemort wants that wand so he can defeat Harry, mark my words. It explains why he had Death Eaters invade Hogwarts."

"Hermione, no offense, but that wand is a bedtime story…" Ron said slowly. "There's been people who have claimed to have it, but… it's never been proven."

"McGonagall said the same thing when I went to her, and then Death Eaters took over the school," Hermione mused and crossed her arms. "Voldemort would have to have control of Hogwarts so he could get the wand from its rightful owner. The one it was buried with."

Harry's eyes widened in realization. "That's why he was after Ollivander!"

"I'm sorry, am I missing something?" Ron asked, looking back and forth between his two friends for a bloody explanation.

Harry began to pace around the tent, his chin in his hand and the other combing through the back of his hair. "Voldemort wanted a way to stop the twin cores from connecting with eachother, so he went after the Elder Wand. He questioned Ollivander because he was the most famous wandmaker in London and Scotland, but he didn't have the answers he wanted."

"So, he did some searching of his own, found Grindelwald, who stole the Elder Wand, but it was stolen back from him," Hermione continued explaining, thinking aloud. "Grindelwald knew who stole it, and told Voldemort. Voldemort had no longer any use for the man so… he killed him. He had all the information he needed."

"Let me get this straight," Ron said slowly, his hands on the table laced together. He looked up at Hermione. He recounted the story to which the two friends nodded to him in agreement. "The wand is buried with Dumbledore then? Bloody hell, it's been right under our noses the entire time!"

"Sounds like Dumbledore," Harry said and sat down next to his best friend. "We have to get that wand."

"We have to destroy that Horcrux," Hermione pointed to the locket sitting at the edge of the table. "That is our first priority. We can deal with Voldemort's wand seeking later."

"Hermione, do you know how many horrible things he will do with that wand?" Harry asked, his mouth agape that she had just dismissed the possibilities like they didn't mean anything.

"I do. But, you also can't defeat him without destroying the Horcruxes. We have to do that first," she replied. "Where are you two on finding the sword?"

"Nowhere," Harry said softly. "If the one in the Headmaster's office is indeed fake, and if he did leave it with Bagshot, Voldemort has it now."

"Swords aren't the only thing that can destroy Horcruxes, Harry," Hermione told him. "Keep working on it. This symbol, it means something. It has to do with all of this, I can just tell. I'm going to keep working on it. Keep me updated."

* * *

Draco was ready to attend the Death Eater meeting the following week, after special treatment from his mother and Sparky. His father hadn't paid him any mind since he had been home, but he thought that was a blessing instead of a curse. He quickly found that most of the Death Eaters were in and out of the Manor on almost a daily basis, and that Voldemort himself had moved in. It made his blood boil to even think about it. He couldn't even go to the kitchen without setting eyes on that bloody snake. Narcissa assured him the situation would not be permanent, and even though it felt like hell now, it would pay off in the end. Draco prayed his mother was right.

Meetings were always held at midnight in the dining area. It was just custom. Draco remembered from his year as a Death Eater that they were sporadic and never well-planned. Everyone just showed up the Manor when their Mark burned. When he was eating in the library, his nose nuzzled in a book about Horcruxes (that he had disguised as a potions book), his father entered and strolled up to him. For the first time in a long time, Draco saw Lucius smile.

"There is a meeting tonight, son," he told Draco. Draco put the book on the table beside him and stood. He realized that he was an inch taller than his father now. "You will be there."

"Yes, father," Draco said.

"What you did was noble. You will be most rewarded," Lucius said to his son. "The Dark Lord has something special planned to give you for your efforts of valor, Draco."

"I'm looking forward to it," Draco matched his father's cool tone. Lucius nodded to his son and left the library, leaving Draco to fall back into his chair and take deep breaths to calm himself.

He didn't know how Voldemort had intended to "reward" him and he didn't want too. Knowing Snake Eyes, it was something terrible. But, that was something that he couldn't worry about now. He grabbed the book off of the table and began to flip through it again. The part he was reading was truly intriguing, and he thought it would help Hermione if he could find out where some of the Horcruxes were located. She had mentioned there were seven; how Voldemort split his soul into seven pieces was way beyond Draco, but he wouldn't put anything past that bastard now. The book noted that whatever the Horcrux was contained in, it would hold a personal meaning for the person splitting their soul. Draco put down the book on his lap and began to think.

What was Voldemort close too? His father? No, his father would not be a Horcrux. The snake. Obviously, the thing never left his side _and_ when he wasn't able to do his demented plans, she went out and did it for him. One of the most recent was when she had eaten a person whole. Alive. Draco shuddered; what a horrible way to die. So, Nagini was one out of seven. Hermione had also told him that two more were also destroyed, so that left four. Potter and Weasley had one: the Locket. But, Draco knew that there were certain ways to destroy the Horcruxes. He began to flip through the pages again until he found what he was looking for: Basilisk venom, Fiendfyre, and the killing curse were the only noted ways to destroy a Horcrux. And it wasn't so easy as blasting them to oblivion, either. He didn't know that Potter had signed up for such a difficult task.

"Draco? Dinner's ready!" he heard his mother call.

The young man put down the book and rose to his feet. He had worn his normal attire; a black suit with velvet lining around the edges of his sportcoat. Physically, he felt and looked like a Malfoy again. His blonde hair had a fringe and was styled back ever so proper. He was back to wearing suits and having servants tailor to his every need. But, on the inside, he felt less and less Malfoy and more and more Black. The Malfoy's were always known for their power, and his father had used that to his advantage to further Voldemort's cause. Draco sincerely hoped that if he survived this war that he would be able to change the Malfoy legacy.

As he left the library, he levitated the book back into its place and replaced the dust so it looked like it hadn't ever been touched in his lifetime. Hermione would've loved it: the smell of old books and the dim light… it was a bookworm's heaven. His mind had been clouded with memories of her since he arrived back at Malfoy Manor, and his heart broke every time a Snatcher came to his father or Voldemort and reported that they had captured another Muggle-Born. He knew his mother noticed the look in his eyes as well, and she willed him to stay strong.

Stay strong him for him.

Stay strong for her.

Stay strong for Hermione.


	21. Chapter 21

_Oh my gosh, the ending of last chapter pulled at my heartstrings. We're starting to view Draco as a man instead of a boy and a person instead of an arch-nemesis. Remember – Draco is beginning to come to terms with his childhood and his pride is beginning to rebuild itself… slowly. Let's keep reviewing guys. If you read this, I want you to take 30 seconds and tell me what you think. It's awesome to hear what you guys think about this. This chapter is going to be a tad on the emotional side, and it will continue to pull at your heart strings. Please don't cry and if you do… I deeply apologize._ _ **Pgoodrichboggs – thanks again for your review! The Taboo will be activated soon, but thanks for pointing that out! I love blending Canon with my own ideas. Thanks so much! & Guest – Thank you, I hope it only gets better from here! **__I also had someone ask what kind of music I listen too while writing this. Star Wars._

Chapter 21:

It was a quarter to midnight when Draco left his room to go to the meeting. His nerves were racing and the stakes were high. He was wearing the same suit as he had been wearing the night before, his hair ever so perfectly in place, and his eyes locked on the hallway ahead of him. His jaw was clenched tightly, and his demeanor was set: the perfect Malfoy, the Slytherin Prince. His wand was concealed tightly in the pocket under his breast in his sportcoat, for the off chance of which he needed it. Narcissa was waiting for him outside the Dining Area's doors. Draco made bold strides over to her, and she brushed the top of his shoulders and gave him a kiss on the cheek.

The pair didn't speak a word as they entered the Parlor, seeing half of the chairs already filled with chattering men. For the first time since Draco had been back at the Manor, he saw his Aunt Bellatrix, who was sitting in place next to her husband. He had always thought something had been off about her, and the way she followed Voldemort around like a puppy proved it. The crowd of Death Eaters grew quiet as Draco entered the room with his mother. They had all stopped to stare at the boy they thought had passed on months before. Draco looked the situation over, deciding on how to proceed. His mother led him towards the chair that was meant for him: sitting between her and his father. As he sat down, he met his fathers eyes, and they had never been so proud. It sickened him that this was what it took to make his father proud of him.

Nevertheless, he took his seat between his parents, noticing Voldemort at the end of the table. He looked exactly the same as Draco remembered him, just as fearsome, and even more evil, if he was even capable of becoming it. He saw a few familiar faces in the Death Eaters around him, who had all grown quiet as the rest of the group came into the Parlor. As the room filled, Draco counted forty people sitting at the table. The second to last in was Snape, who was greeted by Voldemort, before bowing his head and taking his place beside Lucius. Draco and Snape met eyes, grey on black, and those eyes warned him not to step a toe out of line. Snape needn't worry about the young Malfoy, though, but on his fate, and Draco's mother's fate.

There were a few murmurs of the discussing of Ministry business, and a few compliments to Draco on a job well done to which he responded his thanks in a cool tone his father would have thrilled over. The entire time Draco sat at the table, he realized that he had grown more courage in the past year he had been rogue then he had ever had in his entire life. Narcissa's hand moved into his lap and grasped her son's as Voldemort called the meeting to a head.

"As you all know, young Draco has joined our ranks once again," he said to the group at large. Draco looked onto the man, if you even wanted to describe him as that, with a cool expression. "Welcome back, Draco." Draco nodded to the man, and didn't break his gaze. Voldemort looked to Snape. "I assume you bring news, Severus."

"Everything at Hogwarts is proceeding as planned," Snape's voice came from Draco's left.

"Good, good," Voldemort said as Nagini slithered around his shoulders. He stroked the snakes head absently. "Thicknesse, how is the Ministry?"

"Everything is in place, my Lord," replied the man across from Draco. He looked rather shaken, to say the least. Draco looked from Thicknesse to Voldemort, waiting for the next matter of business.

"Very well," Voldemort said. "Tonight is a very… special night. Tonight, we are welcoming a new member to our… society. Young Mr. Zabini, would you join us?"

Draco fought hard to resist standing up and telling Voldemort to fuck off, or take the entire group of Death Eaters at large. First Theo, now Blaise? Narcissa's hand squeezed her son's tighter, making Draco wince. He watched as Blaise stepped onto the table, a cocky look on his face. He was followed by his step-father, but not his village-bicycle of a mother. Everyone at the table knew that Blaise's mother got around… she had most likely slept with ninety percent of the men at the table right now. Blaise's eyes met Draco's for a moment, and he saw the look of fear in his eyes.

Voldemort stepped onto the table as well, joining the step-father and son. Draco felt like hurling… he couldn't watch his friend go through this. Always the protector, he felt himself involuntarily began to twitch, and his mother squeezed his hand again, steadying his trembling. He certainly hoped his father didn't notice, but Lucius seemed too intrigued in their newest initiate to pay any attention to his son.

Draco knew what was going to happen before it did, only because he had been through it. Since his initiation into Voldemort's inner circle, he had seen two others receive the Mark. Both men hadn't been able to stomach the pain, not that Draco had either, and had passed out within a few minutes of the tattoo burning into their flesh. He didn't want to see that happen to Blaise, but knew in order to keep his cover, he had to watch…

Voldemort said a few words about how honored Blaise should be and how it was of the highest honor that he was able to join into the ranks. Draco continuously stared at his friend, sick to his stomach about the procedure he was about to watch. Blaise didn't look scared on the outside, but to anyone who knew him, knew that he was indeed frightful. Draco didn't know how his mother was able to endure Theo's induction without ripping someone's head off… he certainly would have.

When it was time for the Dark Mark to be applied to Blaise, his step-father snatched his arm and held it in front of Voldemort like a piece of meat. Voldemort looked down at Blaise's flesh hungrily, happily, and possessively as he reached for his wand. Draco took notice that the wand didn't appear to be any different than the one he had had a year ago and felt relieved that the Dark Bastard hadn't taken The Elder Wand yet. But, his relief disappeared when he saw Blaise's face. It was almost contorted as Voldemort pressed his wand into the flesh of his forearm.

Draco forced himself to watch his friend's face as he took the pain from the Mark burning itself into his skin. The air smelled of burnt flesh, and Voldemort himself was laughing with glee as Blaise struggled to hold himself up. Some of the Death Eaters at the table were also smiling at Blaise's pain, including both the young men's fathers. Narcissa was still holding Draco's hand tightly. He watched as Blaise's face became contorted and his friend began to cry out in terror as the black snake slithered its way down his arm.

When given the Mark, it doesn't just burn your flesh, but your soul as well. When Draco took the Mark, he had done overall well with the physical pain, but when the darkness reached your soul, it was not something to be reckoned with. He compared it to the loss of someone you loved dearly, or being in so much pain it was unimaginable. Blaise had fallen to his knees, and that's when Draco knew the dark magic had forced itself past the light magic and into his heart and soul. For a moment, the two men met eyes, and Draco had to force himself once again from not getting up and stopping the induction right then and there. How did his father watch this? How did any of them? Blaise kept his eyes on Draco for a few moments, still screaming as Voldemort's wand was pressed into his skin. Draco could see the smoke rising off of the skin on his forearm and the blackness surrounding it and clenched his jaw and bit his tongue.

Blaise couldn't take the pain anymore, and Draco watched as his friend's eyes fluttered. Draco silently begged him to stay awake and fight it, because when you lost consciousness is when Voldemort knew he had won: his magic had overpowered yours and you were his. But, Blaise couldn't resist it: he fell victim to the pain just as everyone (except for a very few people), had done. Draco watched in terror as his eyes drooped for the last time and he fell into a heap on the table. Voldemort looked at the boy's unconscious figure with pride and nudged him with his foot to make sure he was out cold. Draco inhaled and held his breath until his mother released his fingers from her grip.

It wasn't long after Blaise's induction that Voldemort dismissed the meeting after discussing something irrelevant pertaining to Potter. Draco tuned out every word Snake Eyes said and only focused on his unconscious friend who was only a few inches away from him. When the meeting adjured, Voldemort requested that they got rid of "the mess", referring to Blaise. Narcissa called for Spark, who hovered Blaise out of the Parlor. Without a word, and like the good obedient son he was, Draco followed his parents out of the room as well, ignoring the fact that all he wanted to do was barf. Ever since Blaise had been given the Mark, Draco found his Mark burning and itching ever so slightly. He hated it, hated that he was tainted with such an evil symbol. Narcissa led her son to his wing of the Manor, and walked into his bedroom, closing the door behind them and whispering a silencing charm to keep them from being overheard.

Draco sat on his bed, his head in his hands. "You knew, didn't you, Mum?"

Narcissa held her gaze at her son. "I did. I chose not to tell you."

"I would've been more prepared to witness that if you had," Draco argued angrily.

"No, Draco. You would have done everything in your power to prevent it, just like you were fighting doing the entire time Blaise was upon the table," Narcissa countered, and laced her fingers together in front of her dress.

"First Theo, now Blaise…" Draco muttered and ran his hands along his face.

"They all did not have a choice," Narcissa assured her son, knowing that he was blaming himself. He always had blamed himself for any trouble the boys ever got in, from the time he was a young boy.

"They should have, they are of age!" Draco said and angrily began to pace, but knew that for every point he brought up, his mother would counter it. "This needs to stop."

"We are trying to stop it," his mother told him gently. "I will inform our friends of what has happened." She turned to leave, but her wit got the best of her, and she looked over her shoulder. "And Draco, if you are attempting to contact Hermione, I would stop immediately. I was able to cover for your Patronus once; I won't be able to do so again."

Draco sighed as his mother shut the door to his room. He slunk down to his bed, his head in his hands once more, and just breathed. He wouldn't be able to contact Hermione through Patronus now, so he would have to figure out another way. There had to be; he had to make sure that she was safe. With ease, he shrugged his sport coat to the floor and loosened his tie. For the first time in his life, he felt more trapped in his own home than he did being locked in a dormitory at Hogwarts. The young man fell back against the soft sheets of his bed and stared up at the ceiling until Sparky brought him some tea spiked with Dreamless Sleep (all of which Narcissa had requested her to do), and bid him to drink it. It took Draco all of five minutes to realize the tea was spiked and five minutes and thirty seconds to fall asleep. He cursed his mother for being so damn resourceful, but chose to take the few hours of uninterrupted sleep instead of watching his friends get tortured.

* * *

Hermione sat against the trunk of the tree, reading Dumbledore's biography for what seemed like the thousandth time. Their beloved Headmaster was not who he claimed to be, that much was clear. It was more than just Rita Seekter who had said so as well. Harry may have believed undoubtedly that the wizard was capable of no evil, but this was the same man who had sent Harry on a wild-goose chase to destroy all of the Horcruxes with not so much as a letter to guide him. Harry called it blind faith and luck, but Hermione called it stupidity. She understood the importance of destroying the Horcruxes – of course – but there was only so far as she was willing to go before the boys' ignorance clouded their reason.

In the biography, it had noted that Dumbledore may have been responsible for his sister's death at the hands of Dark Magic. It explained why he carried such a burden, and wanted to defeat Voldemort so badly. Why were things in their lives always becoming so damn complicated? Hermione laid her head back against the trunk of the tree, watching the snow fall around her. It was so peaceful… it seemed as though Voldemort hadn't reached the Forest of Dean yet. She sighed to herself and her mind wandered to thoughts of Draco, and his deliriously wonderful kisses. How he had peppered them along her collarbone and held her so gently after they were finished… How he had indirectly confessed his love for her, and how it made her heart soar with happiness until they were ripped away from one another. She remembered just six months ago, she couldn't wait for the Slytherin to leave her side. Now, she was falling into a depression because he had.

She wondered where he was now… He said he was safe. He must have been with someone in the Order… Or maybe his mother, providing that she had turned onto their side. That situation still bothered her something fierce. His mother sent Hermione a Patronus to warn her. She just wondered who Narcissa and Hermione knew in connection to one another besides Draco. She thought long and hard about it, but decided that she had more important things to worry about. The boys weren't making any progress on finding the sword, and that was their main priority.

"Hermione," Ron's voice came from behind her. Hermione involuntarily jumped, but relaxed when Ron sat down beside her. "I want to say sorry for Harry and I just up and leaving."

"You should be sorry," replied Hermione, not aggressively or crossly, just softly. "I understand you had a job to do, but did leaving me behind really constitute that?"

"No, we just thought it was best to do it that way," Ron told her and pulled his knees to his chest. "I missed you, Hermione… and we never really did define our relationship…"

Hermione had known this was coming, and she had been fighting the past few weeks to avoid it. She couldn't tell Ron that she was in love with their enemy, and she didn't feel the same way about him as he did her. She loved him like a brother, not a husband.

"Ron," she said gently and turned to face him. His blue eyes that she loved so much looked back into her own encouragingly. It made her heart sink. "With all of this going on, we don't have time for such juvenile things."

"You consider our relationship juvenile?" Ron asked with crossed brows.

"No, I consider labels juvenile," Hermione answered and opened her book again, dismissing the conversation. Ron only sighed at how stubborn the witch in front of him could be. "We need to find the sword. This isn't a pleasure trip."

"Would it kill you to be a little more relaxed?" Ron asked.

"Is that why you two didn't make any progress? Because you're relaxed?" Hermione shot a dark look at Ron from behind her book. "That sure explains a lot, Ron. It's not like we have the entire fate of the wizarding world on our shoulders."

Ron only sighed and retreated back into the tent. It wasn't long before Harry came out and Hermione only rolled her eyes. Of course Ron would tell Harry about her attitude towards him. But, Harry always understood why she was acting the way she was. He locked eyes with her and sat down in front of her, gloved hands in his pockets with a no-nonsense look on his face. She could only dread what was going to come out of his mouth.

"You don't have to treat him like rubbish because you're in love with someone else," Harry told her sternly.

"What would you have me do, Harry? I have a feeling that he's the reason why you two haven't made very much progress in the eight months you've been out here," Hermione said just as cross, slamming her book shut. "Then all of a sudden, Hogwarts gets attacked and I'm here, and he thinks that everything is back to normal?"

"He loves you, Hermione. He just wants the best for you," Harry explained. "Did you even try talking to him about Malfoy?"

"No, and I don't plan too," Hermione snapped. "And you shouldn't either, because if I find out you tell him, I will hex you to next Tuesday. Don't look at me like that, Harry James Potter, you know that I will."

Harry only sighed in defeat under Hermione's dark gaze. "Fine, but you're going to have to do something soon. He thinks that you two are an item, and if you're serious about Malfoy, it's something you need to address."

"We are in the middle of a war," Hermione told her friend, gesturing around her. "There isn't time for relationships or loving or any of that."

"You can't win a war without love, Hermione," Harry told her, stood up, and pushed a stray curl behind her left ear. "Love brings unity, and defeats all."

With a blank look that Hermione couldn't read, Harry turned around and headed for the tent, leaving Hermione back on watch duty. She growled to herself. For six months, she had felt so left behind and so forgotten that all she wanted to do was find Harry and Ron and help them, thinking it would be more beneficial for her to be with them. But, for the first time in her life since being friends with the boys, she felt more trapped with them than she had with Draco at Hogwarts.

* * *

It was early evening a few nights later when Draco overheard Voldemort talking to his father in the sitting area. A few Death Eaters were still in the Manor, as their meeting had just adjured. Luckily for Draco, no one had been inducted this time, and it was only about ways to progress Voldemort's cause. From what Draco had gathered, the Ministry had almost fallen and there were a great many people either dead or doing Voldemort's bidding. Draco hadn't been given any tasks as of yet; his father told him that it was because everyone was still under the impression Draco was dead and he would reveal him when the time was right. Blaise had been at this meeting, the last before he returned to Hogwarts for the second semester. Voldemort had given him strict orders to memorize their defenses or his mother and Narcissa would pay for his lack of responsibility. That was the second time Draco had almost got up and yelled bloody murder at everyone in the room, but the look from his mother made him stop and remember his place.

Voldemort was talking low to his father, and Draco looked down the corridors quickly before casting a disillusionment chair and creeping to the sitting room door. He pressed his ear against it, straining to hear what he was saying.

"The boy is onto me, Lucius, but we have what he desperately needs," Voldemort said. Draco could tell that he was pacing, and heard the low hiss of Nagini as well.

"He will soon come for it," his father replied. "I think it best we hide it somewhere he has absolutely no access too."

Voldemort passed the door closely, and Draco saw the shadow of his robes and the body of Nagini close to him. He pressed himself against the door so he wouldn't be seen, and to his luck, it worked. As soon as Snake Eyes and his pet were on the other side of the room, Draco pressed his ear against the door again.

"I agree, Lucius. You are redeeming yourself as useful."

"Thank you, Lord," Lucius said proudly. Draco bit his tongue at the way his father acted around Voldemort. It was the epitome of disgrace.

"I'm sure Bella would be up for the task," Voldemort said. "Have the sword moved to the LeStrange vault immediately. Have Severus do it, as not to draw attention. He has good relations with the Goblins at Gringotts."

"Yes, Lord," Lucius' voice grew closer to the door and Draco knew it was time to go.

The young Malfoy quickly stood up and removed his charm before walking briskly down the hallway, a look of business on his face. At the end of the dimly lit corridor, he straightened his shoulders and rolled them forward, then turned left to where he knew the man he was looking for would be.

Hermione had mentioned that Potter had killed The Basilisk with the Sword of Gryffindor. He could've rolled his eyes at Gryffindor's and their bravery, but restrained from doing so. One of the things that could destroy Horcruxes was Basilisk venom. That being said, Potter had unknowingly incased Basilisk venom into the sword, meaning that Voldemort did indeed have all the cards. Potter needed to get his hands on that sword in order to destroy that damn locket… and the other three objects as well. Draco cursed himself for helping Potter, as he swore he never would, but convinced himself it was for Hermione, and everything would turn out just fine.

He rounded the corner into his mother's wing of the Manor and knocked twice on the sitting room door, knowing what he would find inside. His mother beckoned for him to come in, and he opened the door, seeing Snape and his mother sitting in the chairs, apparently deep in conversation. Draco nodded once to his godfather in greeting and closed the door behind him before casting a silencing charm on the room and taking a seat beside his mother.

"What is it, Draco?" Narcissa asked, looking at her son with concern.

"I overheard You-Know-Who talking to father," he replied. "The Sword of Gryffindor is to be moved to the LeStrange vault in order to keep Potter from getting it."

"This is an interesting turn," Snape said softly. "Potter would need that sword to destroy the Horcruxes… it appears the Dark Lord is onto his task."

Draco nodded. "He did mention that. He also mentioned that you would be moving it."

"Of course," Snape said absently and looked at Narcissa. "We should intercept it."

"You have access to the fake in the Headmaster's office," Narcissa offered her input.

"Indeed," Snape replied thoughtfully. "But, just in case The Dark Lord decides to come to Hogwarts, it does need to stay in the castle."

"What if you transfigure something to look like it?" Draco suggested.

Snape looked at his godson and shook his head. "No, the LeStrange vault is deep within the caverns of Gringotts. The waterfall itself will wash away any enchantments."

"What if the transaction never took place?" Narcissa tapped her chin with her pointer finger. "You could just take the sword, Severus, and tell them that it is in the vault. They would believe you."

"It is risky," Snape replied.

"All of this is risky, Severus, where's your sense of fun?" Narcissa teased him.

"I apparently have lost it, Cissy," Snape said and stood. "I should pay the Dark Lord a visit then, since I will apparently be paying the Goblins a visit."

"You will make sure Potter gets it?" Draco asked his godfather.

"I never knew you to be a supporter," Snape's eyebrows raised at Draco as he stood. Draco felt his face grow warm and he looked down to the black carpet. "He will get it. Goodnight, Narcissa."

"Goodnight Severus," Narcissa said and looked at her son. The moment Snape had closed the door and left them, she spoke. "That was brave of you, Draco. Thank you for telling us this information. This could drastically change the outcome of things."

"Everyone keeps telling me that I'm brave, Mum," Draco said and slumped back in his chair. "Father told me I'm brave because I survived the Order's 'torture' and 'escaped', Hermione tells me I'm brave because I survived being a Death Eater for this long, and you tell me I'm brave for bringing you this information. But, I don't feel brave. Bravery is for Gryffindor's and Hufflepuff's."

Narcissa smiled at her son. "Draco, sometimes being brave won't feel like being brave until it pays off. Regardless of how you feel, son, you are the bravest man I know."

* * *

Snape sat in the Headmasters office, staring at the portrait of Dumbledore and having an intense conversation about the Sword of Gryffindor. The man was fiddling with his wand in his hands, staring between the portrait and the Headmistress on his other side. She stood relaxed around Snape when they were alone together but rigid when she was seen in the hallways with him. She listened intently to the conversation, running her fingers along her chin.

"The sword is to be moved into the vault of Bellatrix LeStrange," Snape said and crossed his fingers in front of his face.

"We need to get the real sword to Harry," the portrait of Dumbledore said to the two colleagues.

"I don't suppose you have any idea where he is?" McGonagall asked Snape.

"I do not," Snape replied. "The Order would have informed me if they had known and The Dark Lord would've already killed the boy if he knew."

"Use your head, Severus," the Portrait said snippily.

"No, you use yours, you old fruitcake," another voice rang out as the portrait of Phineas Nigellus came into view from the black backdrop.

"Phineas, to what do I owe the pleasure?" Snape said coolly as he stared at the old Headmaster.

"I may have a tad it of information that you require to complete your task," Phineas said to the man, and crossed his arms, his black eyes staring into Snape's.

"You do?" McGonagall asked curtly with her chin pointed straight forward. The woman was in no mood for nonsense. Especially a Slytherin's.

Phineas side glanced the portrait of Dumbledore across from him, who was staring him down. The older Headmaster's eyes seemed to sparkle with delight, even in painted form. "They are camping in the Forest of Dean."

"I assume you got this information from the portrait I placed in Granger's bag before she left the castle?" Snape asked. Phineas only smiled.

"Very good!" cried Dumbledore's portrait, causing the Headmistress and new Headmaster to turn and face his portrait again. "Now, Severus, the sword! You needn't know that it must only appear under the true conditions of need and valor _and_ do not let Harry know that you have given it to him! If Voldemort was to read your or Harry's mind –"

"I know," Snape said curtly and rose from his chair.

"Severus, would you like an escort?" McGonagall asked her friend as he moved towards the door of the office to take his leave. She watched her friend, and only hoped for the best.

"No need, Minerva. If anyone should ask, tell them I had business to attend too," Snape said and exited the office.

The Headmistress turned to the portrait of Phineas and crossed her arms. "Have you heard any word on the young Mr. Malfoy from Miss Granger?"

Phineas took a seat in his chair. "Maybe a few things, but it tarnishes my family name. We both know that I can't allow that to happen."

"The Black family name has regained its integrity, Phineas. I would very much like to know," she pressed.

He looked as though he was debating with himself for a quick moment before he finally spoke. "She told Potter about their relationship, and she mentioned a few things I would very much wish to forget regarding their… intimate life."

"Just as I expected," McGonagall turned to the portrait of Dumbledore. "This complicates things greatly, Albus."

Dumbledore looked as though he was deep in thought. "It was a risk that we took. I don't think anything will come of it, however."

"I'm surprised it happened at all," McGonagall replied and ran her fingers over her chin. "It will make the ending of this war that much harder."

"If everything goes according to plan, Minerva, you will have nothing to worry about," Dumbledore assured her and popped a lemon drop into his mouth. She should've scolded him; even in portrait form, he was addicted to the candies. "Lemon drop?"


	22. Chapter 22

_Hey guys! We are up to almost 10,000! Let's keep it coming! Tell your friends! Also, if you get a second, you can follow me on twitter: breanne_dodds. Review review review. I can't stress that enough! I'm not sure where I'm going with this chapter exactly, so it'll be a fun one to write ;)_ **Guest – Dumbledore was always so fond of those lemon drops :p & Pgoodrichboggs – Thanks! Draco is convinced he is helping Hermione, and not Harry, so that plays a role. Remember, the Order is using him as a weapon against Voldemort, and he's completely unaware of that right now. They think that Hermione and his relationship will jeopardize their chances of winning the war. **

_Chapter 22:_

Ron had taken so much of his time listening to the radio the boy had brought with them that it made Hermione's head hurt. He was obsessed with it to the point of sitting next to it for hours. He listened to a show called _Potterwatch_ , which in Hermione's opinion was the stupidest thing anyone could ever do. But, it gave people hope, and one of those people, was Ron. But, as much as it came to be an obsession, Hermione began noticing changes in his behavior toward her. He wasn't the sweet and charming man he used to be – he was ignoring her, and when they did speak, it was short sentences, just of acknowledgement. He would have deep conversations with Harry that Harry refused to tell Hermione about, and on more than one occasion, she thought about just leaving… But where would she go? Her home in London wasn't safe, and Hogwarts was out of the question. She was trapped between her best friend and a man madly in love with her. She was at a loss.

The next few weeks were overly tedious. She spent the majority of her time trying to figure out what the symbol pertained too, and where she had seen it before but to no avail. She also spent a majority of her time writing in her journal, and then casting a secrecy charm on it to make sure Harry and Ron wouldn't be able to read it.

 _Febuary 13_ _th_ _– I don't know what I'm doing here. I don't know if I'll be able to help Harry. Ron is completely ignoring me, and I have to wonder if Harry told him about Draco. They haven't made any progress on locating the sword, and have put most of the heavy weight onto me, as usual. This symbol is still bothering me, though. It has to mean something._

Between flipping through her Ancient Rune books for the hundredth time and reading the Tales of Beedle the Bard, Hermione stayed outside, and away from the boys and that awful radio. She normally kept watches, and only went inside when she was completely exhausted and knew she couldn't function without sleep. On those rare nights when Ron would actually speak to her, it was something along the lines of if she had found anything yet, to which she respond no, and leave it at that. These days, she was too tired to pick at Ron for his laziness. She would retire into her bed, dream about how her life would be if she didn't have to deal with any of this, and then wake up the next day and do it all again.

There was one particular evening that Harry came to sit beside her, for the first time in days. She merely only side glanced him as she flipped through her book, and pushed her hair behind her ear, waiting for him to speak.

"How are you?" he asked, as though it was the most casual question in the world. Maybe it was.

"Fine," Hermione said absently, still reading over her paragraph.

"You haven't been very talkative lately," Harry pointed out.

"Nothing to talk about," Hermione replied.

"Well, if you need to talk… I'm here," Harry told her and realized that she wasn't going to talk to him. She was in a mood, except this mood was going to last until they found the sword. He stood up and walked away from his friend and back to the tent.

It was late evening the next day when Harry convinced Hermione to let him take her overnight watch. There was bit of bickering and Hermione insisted she was fine, but in the end, she gave in, went into the tent, curled up in her bed, and Harry presumed she slept… and truly hoped she did. She looked terrible lately: dark bags under her eyes, and her skin was rather pale. He knew a lot of it had to do with Malfoy and that she was becoming more and more depressed as time went on. He hadn't tried to contact her, and it was taking its toll on her. Harry assumed the reasoning behind it was that Malfoy truly was a git, but there could've been other reasoning surrounding the mysterious disappearance of his Patronuses.

Harry fingered the grooves in Hermione's wand as he sat against their normal tree, keeping watch around the campsite. His mind was on pressing matters: he knew he had to find the Sword, and destroy Horcruxes, and eventually face Voldemort. He felt as though Hermione wasn't giving them enough credit… But, that was just Hermione. He looked onwards into the dark forest as a breeze rustled by. Nothing was going on out here, nothing ever did. He closed his eyes momentarily, thinking that he could use just some quick shut-eye. But, he had an increasingly uneasy feeling as his eyes were closed, and he opened them to see an orb of blue light moving towards him.

At first, he thought it was Malfoy, and Hermione would be pleased to hear from him. But, as it grew closer to Harry, he saw through the tree branches that it had morphed itself into a doe. Confused, he stared at the doe in front of him, waiting for it to speak. However, it did the exact opposite. It stared at him, beckoning him to come forward. Harry rose to his feet, and shrugged the blanket off of his shoulders. He cautiously moved towards the creature, gripping Hermione's wand in his hand tightly. They stared at one another for long minutes before the doe turned away and began walking the way in which it came.

Harry, perplexed by this animal, followed suit. The only person he knew whose Patronus was a doe was his mother… was this his mother helping him again? The doe moved silently over the fallen branches and crumpled snow. Harry trailed it closely, so caught up in his own wonder that he didn't even realize that he was being led away from the campsite, and through the wards. He followed the Patronus until it came to the middle of a frozen pond, and floated in thin air. Harry looked into the pond wearily, using Hermione's wand as a light.

"Harry, stop, you're not actually going to go in there," Ron's voice came from behind him.

"What are you doing, Ron? You need to be with Hermione!" Harry barked, still watching the Patronus floating amidst the pond.

"Hermione can take care of herself mate," Ron argued, stepping closer to him. "You know better than to go chasing random Patronuses."

"It was a doe," Harry replied and Ron tensed. "It led me here. It has to be my mother."

Ron couldn't disagree with it, and nodded carefully. "So why is it here?"

"It's trying to show me something," Harry said softly, and the Patronus drifted down into the frozen pond.

Harry stepped one foot on the frozen surface, testing it out to see if it would collapse under his weight. It didn't, however, and he moved forward. As Harry moved out onto the middle of the pond, he heard the ice beneath him creak, and Ron bounded forward only to be stopped by Harry's hand, telling him to stay put. Both of the boys were shaking, not only because of the cold, but because of the circumstances surrounding what brought them there. Harry leaned down to where the Patronus had drifted too and saw nothing but snow covering the ice on the pond. Gently, he brushed the flakes away, and saw beneath him none other than the Sword of Gryffindor.

"Ron! It's down here!" Harry called to his friend ecstatically.

"Bloody hell," Ron shook his head. "You have to go into the pond to get it? How the hell did it end up there in the first place?"

"No idea," Harry replied and stood back up, studying the situation. He really didn't want to go down into the freezing water. "It could be a trap."

"We need the sword, Harry," Ron said slowly. "If you don't go down there, I will."

"No, I'll go," Harry concluded.

He broke the ice with a _Diffindo_ and watched as it fell down into the bottom of the pond, some larger chunks bouncing off the hilt of the sword. Without another word, he knew that Ron was indeed right: they had to get that sword come hell or high water. Obviously, this go around, it was high water. He walked back to the surface and began to strip down to his boxers, Ron watching him uneasily.

"Should anything happen to me, you have to destroy the locket," Harry told Ron as he took off his socks, the last garment of clothing on his body.

"Don't talk like that, Harry," Ron replied and shivered in the cold. "Go get the sword."

"Right," Harry sighed and looked back to the pond. He walked onto the snow, ignoring how cold it was, and onto the ice, which seemed warmer. He was certain it wouldn't break around him, and once he got to the spot he had broken the ice too, he turned to look at Ron.

"Good luck, mate," Ron wished him and took out his wand, ready for the inevitable that followed Harry wherever he went.

Harry looked back down into the ice and took a breath, preparing himself for the rush of cold that was going to follow him jumping into the pond. It wouldn't be worse than the lake during the second task of the Triwizard Tournament. Harry kept assuring himself of that as he dove into the water, breaking the surrounding ice around him.

He saw the hilt of the sword sparkling beneath him a good eight feet or so. He swam gracefully down to the rocks, but the moment he brushed the hilt of the sword with his fingertips, he felt the Locket begin to tighten around his neck. Harry's eyes grew wide as he grabbed at the chain of the locket, but it refused to budge. How had he not foreseen this happening? He kicked and clawed at his skin, trying to grasp the chain but it was no use. He was floating to the top of the pond now, and with one hand, pounding on the solid ice around the hole he had made. The locket wouldn't let him get back to the opening. He only hoped Ron could hear him. Harry's brain was loosing air fast, and he knew if he inhaled, it would be all icy water. So, he reserved himself to fighting the locket until he absolutely couldn't anymore, and closed his eyes, suspended in the middle of the water in the pond, grabbing onto the locket ever so softly, his strength completely depleted…

But, then he was gasping cold and icy air instead of water. Harry felt his body being drug from the ice onto the cold snow, and branches prickling his bottom. Clutching his heart and feeling around for his glasses, Harry found them and put them on to see Ron staring at him, soaking wet and shivering, holding the Sword of Gryffindor in one hand and the Locket in the other. He had the most intense look on his face that Harry had ever recalled seeing.

"Are you bloody fucking Mental?!" Ron yelled, holding up the Locket. "You didn't think to take this off before you dove in there? It's a Horcrux, Harry! It was obviously going to try to stop you from getting something that could destroy it!"

Harry shook his head to clear his brain and pushed his bangs out of his eyes. "You didn't catch it either!"

Ron glared at him. "You were supposed to be the smart one! No wonder I had to come in there and save your stupid arse."

Harry allowed himself to laugh for the first time in months and began to put on his clothes, casting a warming and drying shield on himself and his best friend. "You should get to destroy it, Ron."

Ron's eyes almost bugled out of their sockets. "What? No, mate. The Horcrux killing was always up to you."

Harry moved towards his friend. "No, Ron, you saved me. You get the pleasure of getting rid of this damn thing. Imagine what Hermione will say if we tell her you did it."

"Hopefully it'll get her to talk to me," Ron shrugged and sighed. He looked at the Locket and then back to Harry. He laid it on the ground, and Ron looked at the Horcrux hauntingly.

"It will put up a fight," Harry told his friend. "The Riddle in the diary in the Chamber of Secrets tried to kill me."

The two boys heard the whispering and buzzing coming from the locket, and Ron looked down at it with a look of intense hatred. He raised the sword over his head, ready to strike the object that had been making their lives hell for the past eight months. He counted down with Harry, and then Harry whispered "open" in Parseltongue. Ron's heart began to beat uncontrollably fast, but he was in no way second guessing destroying it. When the locket opened, it was like the surge of a nuclear bomb went off, throwing both boys back opposite directions and landing in the snow. There was a high pitch buzzing and Harry covered his ears, but scrambled to see what was going on. A large black mass was developing in front of Ron. Harry tried to run for Ron, but the surge held him back, and all he could do was stare.

The voice of Voldemort rang out and told Ron it could see his heart and he belonged to him. Harry saw Ron scrambling back, eyes locked dead into the black mass. The Horcrux told him how he saw his dreams and fears, and Harry winced as a large group of spiders ran at Ron. His best friend stumbled back, unable to get to his feet. When that didn't phase him as much as the Horcrux wanted, it jabbed at his fears, and jealousies. It said how much Molly had bestowed him to want a Ginny, and how Hermione had wanted another man. At that moment, Harry prayed that it wouldn't tell him it was Malfoy. He knew that he had to get Ron to kill it before it said anything more.

"RON! KILL IT!" Harry bellowed from across the mass.

Suddenly, Harry saw himself and Hermione coming out the mass, walking towards Ron. His breath caught; Ron was jealous of him. He was afraid that he and Hermione were an item. As much as he was relieved it wasn't Malfoy, this posed an entirely new problem. The Horcrux version of himself and Hermione were coaxing Ron about how they were happier without him, and how Molly had preferred Harry as a son over Ron. And then, they were kissing… Passionately. Harry's gut felt unstable as he watched Ron through the mass. For a moment, Harry thought Ron wouldn't be able to go through with it, and began to race forward again, but couldn't due to the surge still holding him back.

"RON! STAB THE LOCKET!" he bellowed again, hoping his friend could hear him.

He saw a flash of Ron's face that genuinely disturbed him before he was pushed back by the surge and heard the terrible noise of metal against metal. Ron bellowed something not understandable before the black mass disappeared and the two boys were standing next to one another, catching their breath from the horror they had just witnessed. Harry saw the Locket, broken into a thousand pieces and blackened, laying on the ground as though it had been scorched. Then, he asserted his attention to his best friend, and went to pull him to his feet.

"Good job," Harry offered. Ron leaned on him for a moment before looking at him with pleading eyes. For a moment, Harry was speechless. "I'm sorry, Ron… I didn't know."

"Well, now you do," Ron said in the most defeated tone Harry had ever heard. "I'm just glad it's gone."

"I can't wait to tell Hermione," Harry sighed and put his arm around his best friend, leading him back to their campsite.

"Hermione?" Hermione's eyes flittered open as she heard her name being called from outside the tent. It was Harry's voice. She blinked a few times to get the sleep out of her eyes before rolling over from her bed and briskly walking out the flap of the tent to see Harry standing in front of her, a goofy grin on his face.

"Is everything alright?" Hermione asked, her brows creased as she looked the situation over.

"It's fine, actually, yeah," Harry said as he fiddled with the buckle on his belt and pointed over the ridge to where Ron was coming up behind him.

Hermione narrowed her eyes, and quickly bounded up the ridge to see Ron standing there, the Sword of Gryffindor in one hand and the Locket in the order. Except, the locket was open and blackened as if they had set fire to it. That's when it had dawned on her. They had found the sword and Harry had destroyed the Horcrux. She turned to Harry and then to Ron, unsure of what to say.

"Hey," Ron said weakly and held up the locket.

"You destroyed it?" she asked Harry, still looking back from him to Ron and back again.

"Well, uhm, Ron did actually," Harry said and offered Ron a glare of sympathy.

Hermione turned back to Ron, the man who she thought couldn't harm a fly, with the most confused expression on her face there ever could be. " _You_ destroyed it? And how did you two just happen to find the sword of Gryffindor?"

Harry came to stand between Hermione and Ron, just in case Hermione did something stupid, which she was known for when she couldn't control her emotions. "It's a long story."

"Oh yeah?" Hermione said and crossed her arms. "Tell me. We have time."

Harry and Ron hastily began to recount the events that led them up to destroying the Horcrux. Harry told her about the doe, which prompted an intense scolding from Hermione that he had even gone after it. He had to shush her quite a few times to allow the boys to finish their story, but when they had, her hardened features had softened considerably. Ron offered her a smile, which she returned.

"I'm glad that's done," Hermione sighed.

"We need to figure out the Elder Wand now," Harry reminded her.

"Yes, Harry, of course," Hermione said and went back into the tent. The boys followed her without question as she began to rummage through her piles of books until she found the Tales of Beedle the Bard. She sat down on her bed, and the boys sat on either side of her. She opened up to the symbol in the book, and pointed to it. "This is something important, I just can't figure out what."

"Why is there writing in the margins?" Ron asked, pointing to where Draco had scribbled notes about The Elder Wand.

Hermione's breath drew sharply without her realizing it. "I don't know. This was lent to me. Anyway, that symbol means something, I've been saying that for days. And I know I've seen it before. I'm sure that it's the key to unlocking whatever Voldemort is trying to do."

Harry and Ron both nodded as Hermione leaned back against the bed and read the table of The Three Brothers aloud to the boys. The three of them continued to rack their brain for the rest of the evening, but couldn't get anywhere so decided to call it a night. Hermione was convinced that the solution would present itself, just as the sword had. As she took her watch, she realized that it had been weeks since she had heard from Draco and curled into herself as tightly as she could. She wondered if he was thinking about her or worse, if something had happened to him. When two people were in love, it was said that they were bonded magically and they would know if something happened to one another. Hermione sincerely hoped that was true because she was worried beyond belief about the blonde Slytherin and the things he was doing to her heart.

* * *

Many miles away from The Forest of Dean, Draco was indeed thinking about Hermione. He tended to do so quite a bit more lately now that his life was full of evil. She was the one pure thing he could turn too, even if she wasn't there physically. As he laid in bed and stared at the ceiling, it could have been hours before he moved or spoke. He hadn't come out of bed in so long that Sparky took it upon herself to check on him. She appeared in her Master's room and stood beside his bed, staring at him curiously. She knew the look: Lucius had gotten it when he was in love with Narcissa. As she studied the young man, she couldn't help but wonder who the girl was.

"What is it, Sparky?" Draco asked without looking at her.

"Sparky knows you are in love, Master," she said rather bluntly. He turned to look at her with surprise on his face. "Sparky knows you cannot talk to your mother or father about it. Do you need an ear?"

Draco smiled and laid back again, thankful he could be open, at least to someone. "I miss her."

"I bet you do," Sparky jumped up onto the side of the bed and patted Draco's leg. "Is she nice?"

"Only when she wants to be," Draco chuckled at the memories of her. "She's very… blunt."

"That's a good thing," Sparky nodded eagerly. "Go on."

"She has this hair that's like… a bird's nest," Draco explained, using his hands to speak as well. "But, her eyes are the most beautiful shade of hazel. And she has this line of freckles that trails down her left shoulder… and a scar on her ribcage."

"Did Master take time to memorize these things about her?"

Draco sighed. "Yes, I did. She just didn't know it, though. We weren't on the best terms when I did so. We didn't like eachother at first… But, we grew to like eachother. It just took time."

"How long has Master known her?"

"Seven years," Draco said and almost choked on all the bad memories between the two that were caused by him. "I did and said terrible things to her, Sparky. She deserves better."

Sparky's big tennis ball shaped eyes looked at her Master with concern and she took his hand in her little one. "Master… Does she love you in return?"

Draco closed his eyes. "I hope so. I think so. But, we can't be together. If mother or father or Snake Eyes found out, they would kill her, and me."

Sparky looked down to the bed covers in sadness. She hated seeing Draco this way. "Sparky takes it that she is on the other side of the war wizard's war."

"That's correct," Draco said softly. "She is a major part of the other side, just like I'm a major part of this side. I wonder every day if she is still alive..."

Sparky thought for a moment then smiled. "Master, it is said that if two wizards love one another, they are bonded."

Draco hadn't thought about that. His grey eyes opened and he turned to look at his house self with a smile. "You're right, Sparky. I would know if anything were to happen to her."

"Sparky assures Master that his love will be alright," Sparky squeezed his hand. "Sparky also wants young Master to know that she overheard the evil one talking to his father."

Draco raised an eyebrow. This should be good. "Go on, Sparks, I'm listening."

"Sparky heard the evil one smashing things in the parlor. He said something about his soul being destroyed," Sparky told Draco quietly.

Draco's smile widened and he fell back against his pillows in relief. Hermione had done it; they had destroyed the locket! He always knew that she had it in her, and even if Potter and Weasley did help, the locket was still gone and there were only three more to go. Thank Merlin. Draco's heart felt fuller than it had in days and his anxiety had subsided a little bit as his hopes began to grow again.

"I knew she would come through," he whispered happily and content.

"Master is speaking of his love?" Sparky asked, confused.

Draco nodded. "She is very intelligent. I hope you get to meet her one day. Would you go relay this information to my mother? Make sure she is alone, though. I'm assuming father isn't going to tell her jack shit."

Sparky nodded and with a smile and a snap of her fingers, she was already across the Manor. Draco sat up and looked out the window to the tall evergreen trees and smiled. Hermione was alive out there somewhere, and she was working with the Immortal Orphan and the Weasel to destroy Voldemort once and for all. He took a moment to enjoy the news before his father called him for dinner. It was a long and tedious task, but Draco did look unusually happy, as far as his father and the Dark Bastard asking him what was causing such delight.

Draco only responded that he was pleased to hear that the Ministry had fallen, as the news was told to him at the meeting earlier in the day. Voldemort coddled him on being a good servant, and for the first time in years, his father clapped him on the back and told him how proud he was of his son. Although Draco took no meaning from either men, he still enjoyed feeling happy while he could before it was sucked out him. It tended to happen in the Manor, and he wondered how none of the Malfoy's had ever died of depression. Even when he was finished with his supper and retired to his library, he found great satisfaction in just sitting in his chair and reading about Horcruxes.

Suddenly, with one less Horcrux out there, the world around him seemed like a better place.


	23. Chapter 23

_Hey guys! WE ARE UP TO 10,000! Isn't that insane?! Wow, keep telling your friends and family and whoever will listen! :D And most importantly, review! Keep em comin! So, we're moving right along with the plot of the Deathly Hallows, and for those of you who read the book or seen the movies, you know what's coming up next. We saw a lot of what the trio was doing during that time, but not The Order and not Voldemort. So, I'm going to incorporate those two things into the story more so we can see things from all viewpoints. As always, if you have suggestions, please PM me. I would love to hear from you._ **Cinnamon Muffin Punk – thank you for your sweet message this morning. You really know how to brighten a girl's day** **Pgoodrichboggs – I know, right? Finally; it felt like forever until they destroyed the damn thing.**

Chapter 23:

Weeks had passed without the knowledge of what the symbol meant or how to decipher it. They also didn't know what it meant pertaining to destroying the remaining Horcruxes. Hermione was sure it meant something, and was busy connecting the dots in her head, but quickly found that some were inevitably missing. The boys were doing their fair share of work as well, and all of them agreed they had indeed seen the symbol at least once before, but could not pinpoint where. It was frustrating to say the least, and at times like these, Hermione wished she had Draco here to help her.

But, she knew that she didn't have that luxury so she put that brilliant mind of hers to work, scouting everything she could think of, all the places she had seen in the past seven years of her life, knowing it had to pertain to something magically related. She took notes to add to Harry and Ron's, but it wasn't until Harry had an awakening that they finally had a lead on it.

"Hermione, I think I remember where I've seen this before," Harry said and tapped the page of the book with his pointer finger. Hermione's eyes shot up to her friend, begging him to continue. "When Ron and I visited my parent's graves, we noticed that it was the grave of a man named Ignotus Peverell."

Hermione's eyebrows raised. "Harry… that is the surname of the brothers in the story. That means that they were real."

Harry nodded slowly. "Yes, and if I remember correctly from when we took that potion last year in Slughorn's class – remember the one that Parkinson and Nott made that showed our family histories with a drop of blood – that name was part of the Potter line, my line."

Hermione ran her left fingers over her lips. Why hadn't she thought of this before?! Of course, Harry was right. The Peverell's were related to the Potter's. The family name died out fairly early in wizarding history, around 1382, if Hermione remembered correctly from the books she had read. But, that only meant that the Peverell's had daughters, who were eventually married to the Potter's. It all clicked together; Ignotus was given the invisibility cloak for cheating death… And now it was in Harry's possession.

"That means that you are distantly related," Hermione said as Ron sat down next to her.

"You guys remember how Luna and her dad came to Bill and Fleur's wedding, right?" Ron asked the two, who nodded in response. "I'm almost a hundred percent certain that he was wearing that same symbol around his neck."

"Why would he?" Harry asked, taken aback. "That symbol means dark magic, and as much as we want to think that Mr. Lovegood is nutty, he definitely is not evil."

"Harry's right, Ron," Hermione agreed. "Mr. Lovegood is not evil. He may be mad, but certainly not evil."

"Maybe we should go check it out, though," Ron said only to have both sets of eyes in the room turn to face him in shock and surprise. "What's the worst that could happen?"

"Oh, you know, we're kind-of wanted," Harry replied.

Hermione rolled her eyes, seeing both sides of the argument. "Maybe Dumbledore wanted us to figure it out, though. It does keep popping up places, doesn't it? Besides, it's around Easter… Luna will probably be on holiday."

Ron quickly nodded, and Harry rolled his eyes, knowing what his best friend was up too. "I think we should go." Hermione looked sideways to him, and then back at Harry. "Let's take a vote. All in favor?"

Ron raised his hand, but Hermione ignored him. "It's up to you, Harry. Do you want to go see Mr. Lovegood?"

Harry took a moment to make a decision, thinking about all the things that could possibly go wrong. There were quite a few, but he had known Lovegood to be a supporter of him, and his magazine proved that. So, thinking that the benefits outweighed the risks, he reluctantly agreed. "Fine… But, we have to be careful."

"I'm glad you've finally adopted that way of thinking, Harry," Hermione nodded almost starkly.

"It was always there, Hermione," Harry smirked.

"Well, we best be getting ready then," Hermione sighed and began to stand up. She stretched, and caught Ron starting at her slightly exposed midriff.

"Lovegood lives right over the hill from my parents," Ron told them. "I can get us there easily."

Hermione knew that Ron agreeing to go and offering to lead the party was all because he was trying to impress her. It wasn't that she didn't want to be impressed; destroying a Horcrux was a huge deal, especially on Ron's level. On most – if not all – levels, all she wanted to do was tell Ron that he wasn't for her, and that her heart laid with another. It wouldn't be easy letting him down easy, but the last thing she needed was for him to storm out on them for telling him she was in love with Draco Malfoy… So, all she did was do her job, hope for the best, and pray to Merlin that Harry didn't tell Ron about their relationship.

* * *

Draco had seen a lot of terrible things in his lifetime. He had seen a man drinking unicorn blood, a Hypogriff get decapitated, the cold dead body of a classmate, his father in Azkaban withering away, the killing of hundreds of people at his father and the Death Eaters' hands, people being eaten alive by that damn snake, the fall of the Ministry, and the torture of people with crucial information. But, as he sat at the huge table in the Parlor for another midnight Death Eater meeting, he had not been prepared to witness something so horrific.

After Voldemort's briefing on what to do at the Ministry to keep daily affairs somewhat normal and a progress report on Hogwarts, courtesy of Snape, he had told the people around him that he had a treat for them. Draco had immediately tensed again, and Blaise, who was now at his place beside him, shared a look with the young Malfoy that begged not another initiation. But, the boys would have taken another initiation any day over what they were about to see.

Thicknesse had appeared in the south doorway of the Parlor with a girl who looked defeated. Her clothes were tattered, torn, and hanging from her body in pieces. Her dirty blonde hair was hanging halfway down her chest, which was partially exposed, and she was chained around her neck, with Thicknesse holding the chair in his hand. Draco's eyes widened and he involuntarily turned to his mother, hoping she would say something – they would listen to her. But, deep down, seeing his mother's expression so close to mirroring his own, he knew that they wouldn't.

The Death Eater pulled on the chain and the girl crawled on her hands and knees to the table, behaving such as a dog would. She had obviously been held by them for quite some time; there were bruises marking her body and her eyes had bags under them. When she was brought onto the table, Draco recognized her as a classmate. One that he openly knew was a Muggleborn. That's when he began to feel sick again. He knew before they did it what was going to happen to this poor girl. He looked at Snape, who was sitting beside his father on the other side of him, but once again, Snape's eyes posed the threat of staying calm or paying for it with his life.

Voldemort introduced the girl – Draco caught that her name was Emma over the fire his in eyes and soul. The Dark Lord told the group that she was caught trying to flee the country and their good friend Thickneese had stopped her and brought her here, where she could be made an example out of. Voldemort than reprimanded the Death Eaters for being too soft towards their "kind" and that they should spill all the Mudblood blood they possibly could. It would not only lead them towards their goal of exterminating all Mudbloods but also would make Potter come out of hiding.

After his speech of victory over this girl, Voldemort had allowed Thicknesse to torture her. The Cruitatus, as she withered in pain and screamed on the table. Even Narcissa had to look away, and focus her eyes on the dents in her table. Draco felt bile creeping up in this throat and he met eyes with the girl as she finally lay still after the Death Eater relinquished his hold on her. He wanted to help her – he wasn't sure how he would, but he wanted too. She began screaming again when other Death Eaters joined in on the torture, demeaning her in every way possible. Voldemort had only called on his most trusted men to do this and had even denied Bellatrix in her bloodlust. He had said that it was something that the men deserved – as they had been working so hard for him.

It wasn't long before the torture-fest became rape. Draco had seen more of the Death Eaters than he wanted too already, but seeing the girl being forced on plus being tortured was more than he could handle. She must have been penetrated by twenty men or so – including his father – before she just gave up and allowed it to happen. Draco was thanking Merlin that Voldemort hadn't invited him on the table, because he wouldn't have been able to do it. Every time a new man took the others place, another wave of torture was inflicted onto the girl, as well as the Death Eaters using it in their way. Some was terrible, others weren't such, but it was still an awful scene to witness.

After every man Voldemort had named took their turn with the girl, he rose to the table and stopped walking in front of her face. This girl only stared at his ankles; she was red from spanking, there were chunks of her hair on the table around her, and blood from her lips, both holes, and fresh cuts running along the crevasses of the wood. He had reprimanded her again, saying that that was how her kind deserved to be treated, because they were filthy animals. All they were good for was pleasure toys and sport. And he promised her that every last Mudblood would receive the same treatment as her.

The girl had lost the will to fight. At first, she put up a pretty decent fight against them, but now… now, she was defeated. She had succumbed to her fate, and knew what it meant for her. Voldemort had admired her courage, and leaned down to pull her head up to face him by the back of her hair. She looked him dead in the eyes, trying to focus them, before he put his wand to her heart and whispered the killing curse. She immediately fell limp and Voldemort allowed her head to hit the table as he released her hair. Then, he had turned away and commanded Travers to get rid of the mess.

Draco didn't sleep that night. He hadn't spoken a word to his parents – just went straight for his room. He vomited so many times that his throat began to sting, and tossed and turned, but couldn't get the horrific images of what he had just witnessed out of his head. He had known Voldemort was pure evil, but this… this even he couldn't have imagined.

* * *

"I'm sure you know why I have called this meeting," Snape said to the group at large.

The Order was meeting that evening in the kitchen of Grimmauld Place, on a very serious matter that Snape insisted they were all present for. Almost every Order member was present, minus Bill and Charlie Weasley and Fleur. The rest were sitting quietly at the table, all staring down it to the other side where Snape sat with Arthur on one side of him and Kingsley on the other. Everyone in the room could tell that the tension was unsettling.

"The Ministry has fallen," Snape said in his normal monotone. "Those of you who work there know this. There is a campaign to trap Muggleborns, and force them to surrender their magic. About a quarter of Muggleborns have already had their wands confiscated. A few have also been brought into the Dark Lord's meetings, and killed for sport."

Some of the Order members gasped and began murmuring to one another.

"Do you know these people, Severus?" Lupin asked from beside his wife, his hand protectively over hers, knowing that the Death Eaters would not spare her or their child if they were to find her.

Snape's face was blank. "I did."

"Tell us, Severus," McGonagall's voice was shrill, but she knew as everyone did, they needed to know exactly what was going on behind Voldemort's lines.

Snape looked onwards, not moving one inch. "A seventh year by the name of Emma Magunson was brought in after being found by Snatchers last night. I believe she was in Hufflepuff. The girl was questioned, tortured, raped, and then disposed of in the lake behind Malfoy Manor. The Dark Lord ordered the Snatchers to bring any other Muggleborns they find to him and do the exact same."

The look on the people's faces were of disgust and were distorted. Molly had tears in her eyes, and Tonks was gripping her husband's hand furiously.

"We don't have any pull now," Arthur sighed and set his wand on the table. "The Ministry is aligned with Voldemort now. It will make finding these Muggleborns and getting them to safety that much harder."

"It is something that we must try," McGonagall said with her fingers tracing over her lips, as she always did when she was anxious. "I ordered most of the Muggleborns home during the Christmas holidays explaining to their parents that there was an unfortunate outbreak in Spattergroit. None remain at Hogwarts."

"That mean that Voldemort will begin looking for them outside of the wizarding world," Moody growled. "We need to protect the homes of these children."

"It's not just children that he's targeting, Alastor," Snape replied, now looking his direction. "He has been having Rowley go through the Ministry's official records as well, and locating all Muggleborns. He has the plan to exterminate them all."

"Well, we must stop him!" said Molly shrilly, raising her hands in the air. "He can't just go out and kill all the Muggleborns!"

"He's not," Snape replied. "The Death Eaters are."

"I'm assuming that they're brainwashed into believing this is the right thing to do," Lupin sighed.

"Take Lucius, for example," McGonagall said. "I'm sure most of his followers are Slytherins because it was easy to manipulate their Pureblood values."

"Indeed you are right, Minvera," Arthur agreed.

"That and they're all about as thick as a box of rocks," George offered his two cents and got a slap on the back by his twin and a stern glare from his mother.

"But, Narcissa came to us for help," Molly said, thinking of her distantly related cousin in some sort of empathy. "She at least saw what we're doing is right."

"Yes, but Narcissa is one out of a million," Tonks said softly. "She is very thankful for us, and she put herself and Draco on the line by going back into the Manor to spy for us."

"Narcissa and Draco were welcomed back as heroes, I assure you," came Snape's voice. "Both are keeping up their charade."

"We need a course of action," Alastor said to the group at large.

"I assume the very best thing is to give Harry more time," Arthur said and crossed his fingers. "We will have to make sure Hogwarts does not fall under Voldemort's control."

"I agree," McGonagall nodded. "It is best to continue doing what we're doing and defending Hogwarts to the best of our ability."

"There will inevitably be a war," Alastor said from across the table.

"Yes, inevitably," McGonagall sighed and pinched the bridge of her nose. "But when it comes, we shall be ready for it, Alastor."

* * *

Hermione Apparated with the boys to the field between the Weasley's and Lovegood's. The three of them felt the same: it felt so odd to be so close to Ron's home, yet not able to go visit. Harry had wondered if they could – apparently he was just as homesick as Hermione and Ron were. But, Hermione quickly shut down the idea, saying that if the Death Eaters were watching the Burrow, which they inevitably were, then it wasn't safe for them. The last thing they needed was to be in the clutches of Voldemort when they were close to solving this puzzle.

They walked in silence for quite some time, unsure of what to say. It appeared as though the feelings of the day were the same: loneliness and sorrow. All three wanted to go sprinting back the way they came, be given a warm welcome by Ron's parents, sit down at the table and enjoy Molly's cooking, and go to sleep in nice, warm beds. Harry longed for a conversation with Arthur about Muggles, and some testing for the new products at the joke shop. Ron longed for his bed and food… and a hug from this mother. Hermione longed for her life to go back to normality, so she could marry Ron, have seven children, and work in the Ministry. As the three all longed for their specific desires, they didn't notice that they had crossed the top of the hill to where a rickety house stood.

"Well, it certainly fits them," Hermione breathed, scanning the area for Death Eaters.

"Look, we're definitely at the right house," Harry said, gesturing to the signs saying "The Quibbler" and the pile of magazines next to them. He also eyes the sign saying "Keep off the Dirigible Plums" and rolled his eyes. Her father was just as insane as she was.

"He's batty, Luna's… batty," Ron shook his head as the three began to walk up the pathway leading up to the home. "This is not going to go well, trust me."

"Nonsense, Ronald, it's just your anxiety," Hermione said dismissively. "Harry… since you're the one he supports, why don't you knock on the door?"

Harry looked slightly uncomfortable and muttered something about not wanting to come in the first place before climbing the three stairs and awkwardly knocking twice on the wooden door. To their surprise, the door was opened quite quickly by Xenophilius Lovegood. Hermione indeed recognized him from the wedding. He was a slender man, with hair as blonde as Luna's and his eyes were wide and studying over the situation in front of him. He was barefoot, Hermione noticed, and wearing a nightshirt, looking as though he hadn't slept in months. The man at Bill and Fleur's wedding the summer before was not nearly the same man as the one standing before them.

"Who is it? Who are you? What do you want?" the man cried, startling the three of them. He looked down at the three before his eyes landed on Harry and his mouth dropped almost comically.

"Hello, Mr. Lovegood," Harry said politely and held out his hand. "I'm Harry Potter."

Mr. Lovegood didn't take Harry's hand, much to Hermione's disappointment. He looked over the three teenagers before him, and clenched his jaw, unsure of what to say or do. Hermione began to second guess this now – maybe Ron was right. Maybe they should leave. Just as she was about to grab Harry's arm and steer back down that overgrown path, Harry spoke again.

"Could we come in for a moment? There's something we'd like to ask you."

Mr. Lovegood stared back at Harry. "My goodness… that's quite a request… I don't really think that's advisable… My word… I just…"

He looked around his garden, and Hermione noticed that he was swallowing rather quickly. She saw the look in his eyes was confinement and could almost see the gears turning their way through his brain. Harry looked disappointed that he wasn't welcomed warmer.

"It won't take long," Harry insisted. "Please, Mr. Lovegood, we need your help."

"Oh all right then," Mr. Lovegood ushered them into the house. "Quickly, come on now!"

The three hurried inside the house only to be met by a slam of the door behind them. Hermione jumped and reached for her wand, but Ron put his hand over hers instinctively and gave her the look of patience. She envied Ron for his outlook of the world: everyone had good in them. As Hermione took in her surroundings, she realized that they were in the oddest kitchen-like room she had ever seen. It was in the shape of a circle, and even the appliances were curved to fit the walls. And it appeared as though Luna had painted a variety of animals on the cabinets. It was such a burst of color that it made Hermione have a piercing headache. Not to mention that above them, were sounds that mimicked clanking and grinding. Hermione could only imagine what Luna could be doing up there, and how happy she would be to see her friends.

"Come on up here," Mr. Lovegood led them up the stairs in the middle of the room to the upper floors, still looking incredibly uncomfortable with their presence.

When they got to the upper level, the three realized that it was an office of some kind. There was a press printing out the magazine along with many papers hanging up on the walls. Hermione took to looking around as Mr. Lovegood cleared a table for the four to sit and talk. She walked around, distantly hearing him ask Harry why they were there before landing her eyes on a grey-horn.

"Mr. Lovegood, I apologize for interrupting you, but what is this?" she asked, although she was fairly certain she knew the answer.

"The horn of a Crumple-Headed Snorkack," replied Luna's father with narrowed eyes.

"No, it isn't!" Hermione said in shock.

"Hermione, please, now is not the time," Harry tugged on her arm, embarrassed.

"Harry, stop tugging on me! Mr. Lovegood, this is an Erumpent horn. It is very dangerous to have in a house! It can explode at the slightest touch! You need to get rid of this right away before it brings down your home," Hermione explained to the man.

But, Mr. Lovegood was adamant that it indeed belonged to a Snorkack. He explained that he had bought it a few weeks early as a present for Luna. "Now, Mr. Potter, would you explain to me why you are here?"

Harry sighed. "We need help."

"Help?" Mr. Lovegood asked dreamily, looking up at the ceiling. But, his eyes wandered down to Harry's scar and he looked both frightened and mesmerized. "But… helping Harry Potter… it's rather dangerous, you know…"

"Aren't you the one printing magazines that support him?" Ron asked. Hermione almost hit him.

"Yes, I have," Mr. Lovegood replied. "That is the viewpoint of the magazine –"

"How about you personally?" Ron demanded.

Harry studied the man as he did not answer. He could see that his eyes were darting back and forth and was beginning to share Hermione's reservation about wanting to leave. "Where's Luna? I'm sure she would vouch for us."

The man gulped, and looked at the three then out the window. "Luna is down by the stream, fishing for Freshwater Plimpies. I'm sure she would like to see you. Very well, Mr. Potter. I will go and call her and then… I will help you."

With that, he turned and went downstairs. The three heard the door open and shut loudly. Ron looked at his friends and let out a low whistle.

"What the bloody hell –"

"He's probably worried about what will happen to him if the Death Eaters find out that he helped us," Harry reasoned and took a seat on one of the chairs.

"He's hypocritical, Harry," Hermione replied. "He's out telling everyone else to help you yet he was reserved about doing it himself. It's one thing to talk a big game, but he should have tried to help you without incident. Ronald – keep away from that damn horn!"

It wasn't long before they heard the door open and close again, and Mr. Lovegood was up the stairs carrying a tray for tea. Hermione sighed happily and sat down in the chair beside Harry, and Ron on the couch. Mr. Lovegood looked a bit more relaxed then when they first arrived, and Hermione blamed that on Luna. She had that certain way with people. He set the tray on the table and explained what the tea included, something Hermione tuned out, as she just wanted tea. And then, she found herself looking up to a bust of a witch wearing an odd headdress.

"I see you've spotted my invention. It was modeled upon the bust of Ravenclaw," Mr. Lovegood explained to her and handed her a cup of tea. Hermione thanked him warmly and took a sip, feeling at ease. "Now, Mr. Potter, how may I help you?"

"Well, it's actually about the symbol you were wearing at the wedding this past summer," Harry replied, jumping in on information. "We were wondering what it meant."

Mr. Lovegood's eyebrows ceased. "Are you speaking of the sign of The Deathly Hallows?"

Harry turned to look at his counterparts, but both of them looked back unknowingly. "I'm sorry?"

"You haven't heard of them?" Mr. Lovegood asked. "I'm not surprised, as this is widely known as a symbol of dark magic. But, very few wizards believe in them. It is, how shall I say this… a way to reveal ourselves to other believers so that they may help us in our Quest."

"So, what exactly are The Deathly Hallows?" Hermione asked.

Mr. Lovegood had drained his teacup by then and set it aside. "You have read the Tale of the Three Brothers?"

"Yes," the three of them said in unison.

"Then you should know what The Deathly Hallows are," Mr. Lovegood said and leaned over the table to where a piece of parchment was. He drew a straight line. "The Elder Wand." He drew a circle on top of the line. "The Resurrection Stone." And lastly, he enclosed the line inside of a triangle, completing the symbol that had haunted Hermione for months. "The Invisibility Cloak. The Deathly Hallows."

"Mr. Lovegood, The Deathly Hallows aren't mentioned in the story…" Hermione began.

"Of course not," he rebutted, leaned back in his chair, and laced his fingers in front of himself. "It is a mere children's tale, my dear. It is meant to entertain, not to entice people to chase after the Hallows. Those of us who do understand what it means, however, know the story refers to these three objects, which, if they are once again united, make that person… the Master of Death."

Ron let out a low breath, and Hermione's eyes narrowed. "You mean to tell me you think that these items all actually exist?"

"Of course I do," Mr. Lovegood said assertively. "Luna has told me all about you, Miss Granger, and although you are intelligent, your mind is limited. I advise you to think… outside the box."

Hermione bit her lip, but did not back down from her argument. "Okay, I will humor you. Invisibility Cloaks are rare, and even if one did exist like the one in the story (she glanced at Harry and Ron to make sure they were following her), the man who possessed it would be famous and… rich? He wouldn't want to give it up. We have all heard of The Elder Wand. But, what about the stone? How can you prove that exists?"

"Prove it does not." Was Mr. Lovegood's reply.

Hermione was becoming increasingly irritated with the man. He stood up and looked out the window, probably checking for Luna. It was quite a hike back from the stream.

"You will stay for dinner? Luna will make our Freshwater Plimpy soup; it is marvelous!" he strolled away before disappearing downstairs and outside once more.

Harry looked at Hermione. "What do you think?"

"Don't look at me like that, you know I think it's rubbish," Hermione replied. "The symbol is the sign of dark magic, Harry. It even surprises me that this is the first time we're hearing about these 'Hallows'."

"I think it's one of those stories that are made up to teach children not to do bad things," came Ron's suggestion, his hands behind his head now.

They heard the door open again, and began to smell a smell similar to burning underwear rising from the kitchen below. Hermione clenched her jaw in disgust and Harry and Ron met eyes, praying to Merlin that they would not be forced to eat that. Even though Mr. Lovegood was inevitably cooking downstairs, Harry had found it strange Luna had not come back yet. He glanced up the staircase to the room above him, unarguably Luna's room. He ignored the warning from Hermione not to go up there, and when he did, he saw Luna's room was tidily kept. There were pictures of Harry, Ron, Hermione, Dean, Seamus, Ginny, and Neville hanging about. Harry smiled at them: they were quite lovely. But, when Harry examined the pictures closer, he realized that they had dust of them. He allowed his eyes to wander down to her bed, and saw the covers were pulled straight, as though the bed hadn't been slept in in months. As Harry looked around the room, he saw there were no clothes in Luna's closet, and a thin layer of dust crept along the windowsill, reflecting off of the bloodred sky behind it.

"Harry, what is wrong?" Hermione asked as Harry came back downstairs. Mr. Lovegood was already on the top stair from the kitchen, staring at them.

"Where is Luna?" Harry demanded, his voice strong with emotion.

"I already told you: she is fishing," he replied hastily.

"Then why have you only set that tray for four people?" Harry asked, pointing to the tray that Mr. Lovegood held in his hands. Hermione's heart stopped as Mr. Lovegood's hands began to shake.

"Her bed is empty, her room is dusty, and there are no clothes in her closet," Harry continued, watching at the man looked out the window. "I don't think she's been home in months. Why do you keep looking out that window? Are you expecting someone?"

Mr. Lovegood dropped the tray and the bowls fell and shattered. At that instant, the trio knew something was wrong. They all drew their wands, putting distance between themselves and Mr. Lovegood. Next to Hermione, she noticed that the printing press had stopped and a stack of finished magazines sat on a pile next to her. She turned and when she saw the front page, her eyes widened.

"Harry," she whispered and picked one up. On the front page was a picture of Harry, with the words: Undesirable Number One underneath of it.

"So, the Quibbler is going for a new angle then?" Harry asked, his eyes going back to the man.

Mr. Lovegood licked his lips nervously. "They took my Luna… because of my support of you. They told me that they may give her back if… if I …"

"Turn Harry over?" Ron asked. "Fat chance, we're leaving."

Mr. Lovegood put his arms out, blocking the three from descending down the stairs. "You do not understand. They have Luna… You must not leave!"

Hermione saw the figures on the brooms outside the window before the others and screamed as Lovegood pulled out his wand. Not in any position to defend themselves, Lovegood shot a stunning spell at them, which Hermione pulled Ron down to dodge. There was a deafening blast, and suddenly, Hermione was buried half deep in rubble from the room. Her brown eyes opened, looking around at the situation: Harry and Ron weren't as buried as she was, but the spell must have hit the horn because the room was blown to pieces, as well as a section of the wall, exposing the outside.

Hermione pulled herself up, but heard footsteps downstairs, and motioned for the boys to stay hidden as they listened.

"I told you there was no need to hurry, Travers," said one of the voices. It was rough and deep. Hermione recognized it. "I told you he was lying… as usual."

There was a shrill bang and a scream of pain from Lovegood. "No, he's upstairs!"

"I told you last week, Lovegood, that we weren't coming back until we got a decent piece of information!" came the voice again. Another bang, and another squeal. "We are tired of dealing with you and your lies!"

"No! NO! Potter is upstairs!"

"Now, you tried to lure us here to blow us up," the other voice said. Another bag, another squeal. "Think you're clever now, do you?"

But, Hermione gasped at a strange sensation moving over her, and knew that one of the three people downstairs had cast the revealing charm. Their position was lost, and they were going to be found. She had to think… had to do something quickly. Between Lovegood's pleading for his daughter and the men's threats, Hermione made her way closer to Harry and Ron, who agreed they needed to leave immediately.

"Okay… okay…" Hermione whispered, coming up with a plan. "Ron, take my hand. Harry, hold onto Ron."

"Hermione –"

"Ron, stay out of sight," Hermione whispered, as the footsteps drew nearer.

It took a few agonizing seconds, but when the three men appeared at the top of the stairs, Hermione blasted a hole below them with her wand, watching the three men fall into the pit of rubble in the kitchen before quickly Apparating the trio out of the house. When they landed, Hermione scrambled to her feet while Ron praised her for getting them out of there alive.

"I hope they don't kill him," Hermione groaned. "Harry had to be seen so they would believe him and hopefully, they would give Luna back to him."

"You are such a genius, Hermione," Harry gushed at her. "I just hope that they really do give Luna back."

Hermione's cheeks flushed but left just as quickly. "Harry… we need to talk about the Hallows."

"I was thinking, Hermione," Harry began and started pacing. "Dumbledore had the cloak the night my parents died… what if he wanted to examine it? I mean, this cloak… it's exactly like the one in the story, and besides I am related to the brothers..." Harry's voice rose the more excited he became. Hermione's face fell. Harry turned to look at his friends, who stood panting a few feet away from him. "Dumbledore left me snitch! Don't you see? The stone is in the snitch! And that means… that means…"

Hermione looked close to tears. "He is after it, Harry. We figured it out a long time ago."

"But, that means that I have one, maybe two of them," Harry said after a long pause. "If I can get the third, then it would be done –"

"No, Harry, you don't understand," Hermione begged him. "This is wrong, all wrong. He wouldn't have known about the Hallows, Harry… He's just seeking the wand. He doesn't know that it's a Hallow."

"That means that I'm ahead –"

"NO!" Hermione shouted at her friend, so confused and oblivious to why he didn't understand. "This isn't a game, Harry! This is real life! You cannot give up trying to find the Horcruxes to go off on a quest to find the Hallows! It wouldn't matter anyway, Harry! You need to destroy the Horcruxes before you can defeat You-Know-Who anyway!"

"Hermione, why are you so determined not to admit it?" Harry demanded of her. "Volde—"

"HARRY, NO!" Ron yelled so loud that it shook the forest around them.

" – mort's after the Elder Wand!"

"SHIT! Oh no," Ron looked around him. "His name is Taboo, Harry! That's how they find us!"

It was too late. Hermione saw the men in black surrounding them, all of their wands pointed to the trio. They moved closer, and the trio began to ran, and although Harry and Ron got further than Hermione, she was pulled back by her shoulder and toppled to the ground. One of the men was on her, pinning her down, and she was kicking at him while screaming at the boys to run. At that moment, it didn't matter if she survived, but Harry had too.

When she was brought to her feet, she saw that Harry and Ron had been captured too. One of the Snatchers, who appeared to be the leader, walked by the three, starting with her. He called her beautiful, then moved onto Ron, who he scowled at, and when he saw Harry… his face looked like a child inside a candy store.

"Well well well… it looks like we've caught Harry Potter, boys," said the leader with a smile. He turned to his troop. "We'll take them straight to You-Know-Who."

Hermione thought she was going to be sick as she struggled against the man who had subdued her. She met eyes with Harry, and although he didn't look frightened, she could tell he was. Ron looked worse, tossing and turning and begging them to let Hermione go.

"I believe he's still at Malfoy Manor," said one of the Snatchers.

"Let's go," the leader said. "I'm sure he can't wait to see you."


	24. Chapter 24

_Talk about a cliffhanger! Oh, this chapter is going to be so fun to write! Hermione is on her way to Malfoy Manor to see… Malfoy? We'll find out. Continue reviewing guys! I love to hear from you. You can always message me if you'd like, I always reply. I've been getting the kindest messages from you all! It seriously makes my day! Feel free to follow me on Twitter: breanne_dodds and Insta: breannesawriter ; if you're interested in my personal life :P_ **ZephyrLegend – You'll find out what happens, but it won't be like you're expecting :P Pgoodrichboggs – That is such a good analogy! The question is, seeing as what Voldemort's been doing to the Muggleborns, will he do the same to Hermione and will Draco be able to keep his cover? Guest – It will take an emotional toll on both of them, and we'll find out how they handle it!**

Chapter 24:

When Draco heard his Aunt Bellatrix's evil laugh, he knew something wasn't right. She never laughed unless she was either harming someone or excited. Neither of two meant well for the person on the other end of it. He had been beckoned to the sitting room after his mother had come and gotten him, telling him that they were needed, but did not know what for. Draco followed his mother, dressed in her normal long black gown with long sleeves, and a corset, into the sitting room to see about eleven people standing, arguing back and forth. Someone had caught someone, and this someone was really important, and all would be forgiven for the Malfoy name… He was forced to stay behind his mother, even though he was tall, he still could barely see Bellatrix in the middle of the crowd.

He knew enough not to ask what was going on… If they had caught another Muggleborn and insisted on doing the same thing that they done to Emma Magunson, Draco would turn and walk out the other door, right out of the house, right out of the gardens, right into the lake, and drown himself. He heard more laughing, and saw Bellatrix jumping with glee and his mother straightened her chest. They knew this was not good. Draco hadn't noticed his father was in the middle of the crowd either until he emerged, his face light and happy as he approached his family.

"They've caught him!" Lucius said gleefully. Draco's eyes widened as he craned his neck to try to see. "Oh, Cissa, do you know what this means?"

"Indeed I do, Lucius," she replied coolly, and watched as her sister gleefully pranced around the room. "Do you know for sure?"

"Draco? Why don't you take a look?" Lucius insisted, his eyes commanding.

Draco clenched his jaw into the still position he had learned to keep it in, only to keep up appearances. He knew he could not say no, especially to his father. So, he nodded, and took a step forward, seeing that Harry Potter was indeed on the floor of his sitting room. A bit of a shock though it was, he saw Potter looking at him, and noticed that he looked as though he hadn't slept well or ate right in weeks. He nodded to his father, and when his eyes landed on Ron, he nodded the confirmation that Ron was indeed Ron as well. But, Draco's heart stopped when his eyes landed on the third person they were holding. Hermione.

When Hermione saw Draco emerge from where his father and mother were, her heart stopped. He had come back to Voldemort… and he was dressed in an expensive black tuxedo and groomed like a Malfoy; not one blonde hair on his head was out of place. She was gagged, but if she wasn't, a list of profanities would have streamed out of her mouth at the man she loved, and maybe it would have gotten her killed, but she seemed to not have a care in the world about her life these days. He had correctly identified Ron and Harry, and she couldn't deny that the cool in his voice made her worst fears come true. He had turned. He was one of them again.

Damn her. Damn her for ever thinking he could change. Damn her for falling in love with him. Damn her struggling against her captors, and damn Draco Malfoy for staring at her so harshly, in the way he always had when he was mad at her. It was as though the six months she had spent with him didn't matter. He had returned back to his old ways, and she knew right then and there that she would be killed the moment he revealed her true identity, and that would be the end of her. Be the end of their relationship. The wizarding world would fall to Voldemort because Draco Malfoy would not make the right decision. In her heart, Hermione was sure of it.

His father had to give him a nudge to go look over Hermione. Draco's feet were rooted to the floor until the excited shove from his father willed them to move. He took long strides, unsure of what to think or do, as he approached her. She was struggling, just as he expected her too. She had probably thought he had turned, and he had to keep up appearances. He was formulating a plan to save her as he leaned down in front of her. Her brown eyes were angry, and there were tears falling down her cheeks, wetting the gag that was in her mouth. He wanted to take it out, but he knew if he did, she would scream and carry on at him. He couldn't allow that.

So, he did what a good Death Eater would have done. He informed everyone in the room that it was indeed Hermione Granger, the Mudblood that was traveling with Harry Potter. He saw the loathing in her eyes as he said it and it broke his heart into a million pieces. But, then, he turned to his father, a cold look on his face, and requested to take her. Narcissa's eyes were warning, but Lucius agreed, saying that his son was finally understanding the spoils of war. He permitted it, much to Draco's surprise.

He ignored Ron's screaming as he pulled Hermione up by her arm. She stared at him with a loathing that made him angry, and she tried to pull out of his grip, but he held her arm tighter, and eyed her warningly in the most evil way he could. She stopped then, allowing him to pull her out of the room and into the hallway outside. Ron was still screaming for him to let her go, but Draco had noticed the way Harry had studied his move on Hermione, and knew that he might have understood what was going on.

As soon as they were out of earshot and almost to the other wing of the Manor, Draco opened one of the spare rooms and shoved her in it. Then closed and locked the door and cast a silencing charm. He turned to face her and before she could do anything, he pushed her against the opposite wall of the dark room. Hermione stiffened, and he could see the fear in her eyes at him being this close to her. His hands came up to her face and untied her gag, letting it fall to the ground.

And then he kissed her. Mostly so she wouldn't start screaming at him. For so long, he had thought about her, her kisses, her eyes, her body… And now, she was here, in his home. Granted, it wasn't the best of circumstances, but she was here. And to his surprise, she kissed him back. Her lips moved against his quickly, and her hands cupped his cheeks. Only when he had to stop for breath did he pull away and look her in her beautiful eyes.

"I've got to get you out of here."

Hermione didn't speak, just stared at him. When she finally did, it took her a moment to process everything that was happening. "Why… are you here?"

"It's a long story," Draco replied and kissed her lips again. "But, for the time being, we have a moment."

"You-Know-Who will be here any minute to kill Harry!" Hermione replied, trying to get around Draco now. He had to grab her arms and hold her in place.

"No, he won't. They haven't called him, and they won't call him yet," Draco insisted and pushed her back against the wall. "Just stop, for one second."

Hermione stopped and stared into the grey eyes of the man she loved, her cheeks still stained with tears. Draco thought that in that moment she had never looked so beautiful. She sighed and Draco took the moment to push a strand of stray curl behind her ear.

"I didn't turn, Hermione," Draco told her softly. "I'm here to help you find those bloody Horcruxes, and kill the Dark Bastard once and for all."

"How? How did you…" she trailed off, obviously confused at everything that was going on.

"It's a long story," he repeated and ran his fingers down her cheeks, savoring the softness of her skin. "I will tell you it soon, okay? But, I need to get you out of here."

"How do you plan to do that?" Hermione demanded, a look of desperation on her face. "I can't just walk out there and leave! Besides, what about Ron and Harry?"

"Weasley may be a Blood Traitor, but he's a Pureblood," Draco mused. "You-Know-Who won't kill him. Potter… Potter probably won't be killed right away because he'll be shown off. But you… you will be."

Draco thought back to what he had witnessed with Emma and shuddered. He wouldn't be able to keep his cover if anything like that happened to Hermione, of that he could be damn sure. So, he just took a moment and ran his fingers over her skin, trying to calm her down, and savor the moments while he could. He studied her, remembered her, and went on with the next step of his plan.

"You have to trust me," Draco told her sternly. "Can you do that?"

Hermione looked at him almost robustly. "I don't have a choice, do I?"

Draco couldn't help himself, he kissed her again, wrapping his arms around her body and pulling her close to him. She was lifted off of her feet, and for the first time in a long time, both of their hearts were full.

* * *

When Hermione was approached by Malfoy, Harry had noticed his hesitation towards her. He never actually thoughthe would see the day when Hermione and Malfoy would be in the same room together, and this was hardly the time and place for it. But, he studied Malfoy's movements, tuning out Ron's screaming and carrying on. He had identified her in the most proper manner, his voice cold, and even colder when he asked to take her. Harry had assumed that meant to do terrible things to her, and so did everyone else in the room, Ron most of all. But, Harry saw the glare he had given her when he hoisted her onto her feet: a look of warning. And most importantly, when Hermione saw that warning, she stopped struggling.

He knew Malfoy would not harm her, especially because he loved her. For some unknown reason. But, Ron was still struggling and kicking as the two were placed in the center of the room and the Death Eaters and Snatchers left them to the other side of the sitting room, huddled around one another, talking in hushed whispers. And Ron was still screaming.

"Ron, shut up," Harry whispered to his friend.

Ron turned to stare at him. "Are you fucking kidding me? Malfoy just took Hermione!"

"He won't do anything bad to her, I promise," Harry said from between his teeth. "Seriously, Ron, just shut up and let me think."

"How do you know he won't? This is _Malfoy_ we're talking about!" Ron growled desperately.

Harry knew he had to make a choice right then and there. He glanced at the Death Eaters, too occupied in their own discussion to pay the two any mind at the moment. He faced Ron the best he could and took a deep breath. This was also not how he planned to tell his friend about Hermione and Malfoy's relationship.

"He loves her," Harry said finally, studying his best friend's face.

"What?" Ron actually laughed. "I appreciate you trying to defuse the tension, Harry."

Harry cocked an eyebrow. "Ron, I'm serious."

"No, you're not, Harry. Just admit it: you're pulling my leg so I would laugh and shut up and let you think," Ron smiled. Harry rolled his eyes. At least Ron wasn't screaming anymore.

"Whatever floats your boat, Ron," Harry muttered. "But, when he doesn't harm her and she comes back here alive, you'll believe me."

Ron took a moment of silence to think about that statement while Harry's mind raced at a million miles per hour. He couldn't find any way out of this situation, especially since they were bound and wandless on the sitting room floor. He could only hope that Malfoy and Hermione were using – dare he say – the brilliant brains of theirs to get them out of there.

* * *

Draco wished that he would never be done kissing Hermione. Her lips were the perfect paradise in his world of hell. He was still trying to wrap his mind around the fact that she was here. A few plans came through his mind, but while they were kissing, what seemed like a foolproof one came to him. He pulled back and smiled at her.

"Why are you smiling?" she whispered, pecking at his lips. He could still feel the tension in her stance, and rested his nose against hers.

"Because, I have you, even if it's just for right now," replied Draco softly. He pulled away, seeing that it was raining outside now. The darkness mixed with the rain made for a sorrowful scene as he called for his houself. "Sparky?"

Within a moment, the elf was before him, and he crouched down to her level. Hermione watched him intently, wondering what in the world he could up too. She also remembered Lucius' treatment of Dobby and prayed Draco didn't treat Sparky the same way.

"Yes, Master?" she asked, her eyes trailing over to Hermione. "Master, is this…?"

"This is Hermione," Draco gestured towards the girl behind him. Hermione smiled at the elf, surprised that Draco had told Sparky about her. Sparky's tennis ball shaped eyes widened. "I need you to fetch Dobby. Tell him that it is his job to escort Harry Potter out of this house. Do you understand?"

Sparky nodded, and within a moment, she was gone. Draco turned to face Hermione, straightening his suit coat. Hermione raised an eyebrow in his direction. He was leaving their rescue up to Dobby, and that didn't settle well with her.

"Dobby?" Hermione asked.

"Yes," Draco said. "Hermione… you need to know that your friends are in the dungeons. Lovegood, Thomas, and Ollivander are all there."

Hermione involuntarily gasped, and her hand raised to her mouth. "We have to save them!"

"I'm working on that," Draco muttered and took her hand. "I'm going to take you back out into the sitting room. I need you to promise me that you won't do anything rash. We will handle getting you out of here. Hermione, _promise me._ "

Hermione looked as though she was about to slap him. But she nodded. Draco reached down to the floor, and grabbed the gag off of it. He looked saddened as he tied it loosely between her lips again, and kissed them through the gag.

"Hermione –"

"I know," she whispered before he pulled it tightly, and knotted it behind her head.

"You will get out of here," he promised before squeezing her hand and leading her back over to the white double doors.

He didn't have to tell her to act the part; as it seemed that's what everyone was doing these days anyways. He grabbed her arm roughly, and pulled her down the hallway back to the other side of the Manor. Quite a few times, the two met eyes, hazel on grey, but did not attempt to speak to one another. As they neared the sitting room, they heard voices ringing loud and clear. They seemed to be arguing, but Draco paid no mind. He took a deep breath before throwing open the doors to the sitting room. Everyone in the room turned to stare at the two, and Hermione did her best to look weakened and devastated. She had even begun crying again, although that wasn't entirely all show. She was scared for her and her friend's lives.

Draco drug her over to Harry and Ron and threw her roughly down on the ground before being congratulated by Bellatrix and his father for a job well done. Hermione scrambled back to her friends before staring around her at the eyes of the prying Death Eaters. Honestly, she had never been more frightened in her entire life. She only hoped that Dobby would come through. Her eyes settled on Draco as he moved back to where his parents were standing. His father looked worse than he had on Christmas Eve, blackened circles under his eyes, and his features carved ever so sunken. His mother, however, stood in raw beauty. Her blue eyes held the power of dignity, and it wasn't hard for Hermione to picture her betraying Voldemort.

"I told you, Ron," Harry murmured as the Death Eaters went back to discussing business.

Ron turned to face Hermione the best he could. "What did he do to you?"

Hermione spit the gag out of her mouth and narrowed her eyes at Harry. "What did you tell him, Harry?"

Harry looked frightened in that moment. "That Malfoy wouldn't hurt you."

"He didn't," Hermione told them.

Ron's eyes bulged open as he stared back and forth between Draco and Hermione. "Harry – you weren't lying. How the fuck – he's the one?"

Hermione sighed. Wonderful. "May I remind you now is not the time, Ronald? We're tied up on his sitting room floor."

"Yeah, great boyfriend you have, Hermione," Ron muttered as his face grew more and more red.

"Shut up," she hissed at him.

She noticed that the Snatchers and Death Eaters were going through her bag now. Lucius and Bellatrix were arguing about who would summon Voldemort. Draco moved so that the trio could see him, and he stood diagonally to them, next to his mother. He tapped his left arm twice, so that they knew Voldemort had not been called yet. Hermione looked to Ron and raised her eyebrows, as though to tell him to shove it. Ron bit his lip, but studied Draco. As the arguing continued, Draco tapped his wrist three times: they were running out of time.

"STOP!" came Bellatrix's shrill cry. Everyone in the room ceased their movements and turned to face her, even Draco. Lucius was about to touch his Dark Mark and summon Voldemort. "DO NOT touch it, Lucius! If you do, all of us will perish!"

Lucius froze with his finger still hovered over his Dark Mark and everyone in the room watched Bellatrix's haunting form as she stalked over to one of the Snatchers. Draco saw it was a sword; the sword of Gryffindor. As Bellatrix moved, he turned to Hermione and met her eyes. He mouthed "the sword", and Hermione shook her head. They had found the sword. There was some arguing Hermione couldn't comprehend before six flashes of red lights rang out. The Snatchers had been stunned.

"Where did you get this?" Bellatrix snarled to one of them. "Snape sent this to my vault in Gringotts!"

"It was in their bag," came a strangled reply from one of the Snatchers.

"DRACO! Move this scum outside, and if you don't have the guts to finish them, I will later," Bellatrix commanded her nephew. Draco's eyes narrowed, and Hermione felt her heart begin to pound inside of her chest.

"Don't you dare speak to my son like that –" Narcissa said furiously, but Bellatrix cut her off.

"Be quiet, Cissy! The situation has become a lot graver than you could imagine!"

"Oh, I could imagine quite a bit, Bella," Narcissa's voice was dangerously quiet and still.

Bellatrix looked as though she was deep in thought. "The prisoners must be placed in the cellar until I come up with a plan of what to do."

Narcissa held her ground. "You do not order me around in my home."

Hermione found herself admiring Draco's mother, and realized why he said they would have gotten along well. Narcissa was an older version of herself, except more distinguished. Draco's eyes darted back and forth between his mother and Aunt, waiting to see what became of the argument. He had instinctively moved in front of Hermione as though to protect her. She saw Bellatrix pacing through his legs, and craned her neck to see Narcissa's arms cross over her chest.

"We are in danger! Do you not understand?!" Bellatrix shrieked. "Do as I tell you!"

Narcissa hesitated for a moment before turning herself to one of the Snatchers. "Greyback, take the prisoners down to the dungeons, please."

"Wait," Bellatrix stopped pacing and faced the three prisoners. "Except… except for the Mudblood."

Hermione felt her heart constrict. Harry's eyes widened, and he looked to Hermione and then to Draco. Draco's jaw clenched and his hand reached for his wand. It was halfway out of its pocket before his mother placed a hand over his and forced him to put it back. Ron was screaming all over again. They watched as Bellatrix stalked over to Ron and hit him across the face.

"Shut your mouth! If she dies under my questioning, you'll be next. You may be a Pureblood, but being a Blood Traitor is next to being a Mudblood in my book," she hissed at him. She turned to the Snatcher. "Greyback, secure them downstairs. Do nothing more to them."

Draco made his move to protect Hermione from his crazy Aunt before his mother grabbed his arm and drug him a few feet back. His eyes met Hermione's; her brown ones were fearful as Harry and Ron were drug away from her. Bellatrix grabbed a fistful of her hair only to be met by a scream from Hermione. Draco tensed and made to bolt after her, not caring who saw or what they saw. Narcissa held him back, squeezing his arm tightly.

"Draco, do not," Narcissa hissed in his ear.

"She will die," Draco turned to his mother.

"She won't," Narcissa replied. "I'm assuming you've already put a plan in motion to save her."

Draco turned from his mother back to where Hermione was drug on the floor. He willed himself to say silent and still as Bellatrix paced around her like she was a cat and Hermione was her prey. She held her wand out in front of her, panting slightly, getting ready for the interrogation. Draco matched the evil look on his father's face, but instead of it being directed towards Hermione, Draco's was directed towards his Aunt. He watched as Bellatrix began her questioning, demanding where they found the sword. Draco knew Hermione would rather die than give up any information pertaining too Potter's quest to destroy the Horcruxes. That right there was enough to drive the young Malfoy up a wall.

"You're lying, you filthy Mudblood!" Bellatrix screamed. Draco willed himself to watch as Bellatrix pounced on the woman he loved and held a silver knife to her throat. "Tell me the truth! You've been inside my vault at Gringotts! _TELL ME THE TRUTH!"_

On the many times that Draco had wanted to kill his Aunt, now would be the most prevalent time. Narcissa watched her son closely, watched the hate in his eyes grow to the point of blindness. He was truly in love with Hermione – of that she could be certain. Otherwise, he wouldn't have been stepping forward for what seemed like the hundredth time, and having her pull him back. Narcissa wasn't a fool; she knew he wouldn't be able to stand watching Hermione be killed.

After countless questions without the right answers, Bellatrix began to use the Cruitatius Cruse on Hermione. The first time she had said it, Hermione screamed so loud that it shook the very walls of Malfoy Manor. Draco gritted his teeth as he watched her squirm on the floor of _his_ sitting room, and tuned out the cries from the dungeons begging to let her go. Even as Bellatrix continued asking questions of Hermione, her stubbornness would not be depleted. She continued to lie, and although Draco admired her pride, he could not see using it sacrifice her life.

Bellatrix was an evil woman. So evil that she would inflict the worst possible torture and pain on someone as she knew how to do. When she hadn't gotten the answers she so desperately needed, her thirst for bloodlust kicked in and she straddled Hermione, holding her down to the ground and placed her wand on the right arm. She yelled the _Cruico_ again, and Hermione's screams echoed off the walls and stung Draco like physical pain. He wanted to go to her – wanted to help – but he knew he couldn't. Just watching her lay there, helpless, was the most unbearable torture he had ever received.

There was blood and Hermione's whimpers and screams rushing down the wooden floor. He remembered when he had first seen her blood: it was just like his. Nothing was separating them, nothing was different, except she was too stubborn and he was rooted. Draco couldn't make out exactly what Bellatrix was doing, but she was enjoying it, of that he could be sure. She was demeaning Hermione in every way, and Draco tried desperately to meet Hermione's eyes. When she finally turned her head to him, he almost exploded in rage. Her eyes were bloodshot, and tears ran down her cheeks. Bellatrix was busy doing something to Hermione's arm, but he could tell Hermione was not willing herself to scream. She wouldn't give Bellatrix the pleasure.

Hermione was so weak she couldn't even mouth "help me" to Draco. She just hoped her eyes would tell him. Even as she looked into his eyes, laying there, helpless and allowing the sinister witch to carve into her skin, she noticed he was paler than usual and a lot angrier. He looked as though he could kill someone – and Hermione was sure he could. After what felt like an eternity, Bellatrix whispered something about her being marked, and she felt the woman's weight come off of her. It was only then that she heard Narcissa telling Bellatrix she would read Hermione's mind, as Bellatrix needed to figure out a plan for the Dark Lord. Reluctantly, Bellatrix agreed, and through the slits of her eyes, Hermione saw the nape of a black dress come forward and then the blonde hair of Narcissa Malfoy falling gently over her face.

Narcissa's hand cupped Hermione cheek and she whispered soothing things to her over and over again, and then raised her wand. Hermione felt her mind be invaded, and could tell Narcissa was searching for memories of Draco. Hermione was too weak to resist. She allowed Narcissa to see how they were when he showed up at her home in London, how they had fought, how he had helped them, their kisses, their fights, their love making, the night she had to trust Theo to get him to safety, how she had thought about him every day, his Patronus, how he had taken her just tonight, kissed her, and assured her that things would be okay. And eventually, how he had told Sparky to get Dobby. At that memory, Narcissa withdrew from Hermione's mind and pulled back. She gave Hermione's cheek one last stroke, and Hermione fought to stay conscience.

She saw and heard Bellatrix asking a Goblin if the sword was real. He had denied it and said it was a fake. She saw Bellatrix breathe a sigh of relief, and then lift her sleeve. She was prepared to call Voldemort. Hermione closed her eyes; this was the end. She would die on the floor of the sitting room in Malfoy Manor, just a few feet away from the man she loved. But, then, there was commotion. She heard Harry and Ron's voices, and then Draco's, and then Narcissa's again. Then, she was being pulled up by her hair, and she screamed, and finally opened her eyes to see the sitting room full of people with wands pointed at one another. A knife was at her throat again, and she knew that she was being held by Bellatrix.

"STOP! STOP OR SHE DIES!" came the roar from behind her. Hermione trembled. "Drop your wands! Or else we'll see how filthy her blood really is!"

Hermione focused on Harry and Ron who still held their wands to Bellatrix, and her eyes moved to Draco, whose wand was pointed towards Harry and Ron, as well as the other twelve people in the room. She felt the skin start to break on her neck and panicked.

"HARRY!" she screamed and struggled.

"Alright!" Harry yelled and slowly put down whosever wand he had. Ron did the same.

"Good!" Bellatrix squealed with delight. "Draco, pick up their wands. We'll have Greyback here dispose of little Miss Mudblood."

Draco looked up at the chandelier above them where he saw Dobby hurriedly unscrewing the screws holding it in place. Then, he met eyes with his Aunt and smiled. Everyone had taken to looking at what Draco was staring at, and the chatter had died so low they could hear the last screw unhinge. Bellatrix growled as she realized what was happening and threw Hermione down before the chandelier fell. Chaos ensued once more.

Draco bounded to stop Hermione's fall, and pulled her out of the way, sure that no one would notice since everyone was dueling someone right now. He pushed her out of the way and drew his wand to one of the Snatchers.

"Stupefy!" he yelled, and a jet of red light hit the man square in the chest. Hermione began to crawl to her feet. "Stay behind me! Stay behind me!"

Narcissa was dueling alongside her son, stopping spells from coming near the three, no matter who they came from. It was only then that she realized it was Dobby, who was helping Harry and Ron evacuate, which dropped the chandelier. She allowed herself a thin smile and deflected a stunning spell heading right for her.

"Draco! Get Hermione out of here!" she yelled to her son. She knew the distraction was enough for them to escape and do so accordingly.

Draco took that as his clearance to leave and threw up a shielding spell to block anything from getting to the two while his back was turned. He pulled Hermione out the side door where he saw Dobby go and closed it quickly behind him, hoping that no one would take notice of their absence as long as Harry and Ron were still dueling. Dobby was waiting for them in the hallway, staring at them with wide eyes. Draco pulled Hermione to him and kissed her roughly.

"Go with Dobby," he commanded her and she nodded through bloodshot eyes and tears. "He will take you somewhere safe." He pushed her hair out of her face and kissed her forehead, her nose, and then her lips again. "We will see eachother again, I promise. I love you."

Just one second after Draco's lips had left hers, Harry and Ron came bounding through the doorway, followed by the walls being torn apart from the spells subsequent to them. Draco stole one last look to Hermione before running around the doorway and meeting up with the Death Eaters following in suit of the three. He heard his Aunt screaming something at Dobby, and saw her throw something, and then the three were gone, just as soon as they had come.

He stared at the spot they were a moment ago unblinking, realizing that Hermione had been taken from him... yet again.


	25. Chapter 25

_Wow guys, so last chapter was_ _incredible_ _! I know a lot of you have been waiting for that and I hope I delivered fairly well :P So, now that we know Hermione survives, where do we go from here? Let's find out! This chapter is going to reveal something that I fought with myself about for quite some time to put in. It will change everything drastically – but, that's not a bad thing. "…Even in war, good things can and will happen." This will be quite a development, and I want to know what you guys think about it. Please REVIEW! (Also, I'm listening to John Newman – love me again for this chapter)_ **Guest – Here's your next dose of heroin, you're welcome. Pgoodrichboggs – I had to make sure that everyone knew he wasn't really a Death Eater. A very crucial part of the story is how The Order is using the Malfoy family for their personal gain. I felt the need to move the plot along, especially with the aspiring events in this chapter. I'm glad you liked it! Imranramji – I'm impressed you finished this so quickly! Here's your next dose of heroin as well! Guest – I'm very glad you weren't disappointed; I hope you like this chapter just as much! Fleiur – I'm glad you're liking it so far! Keep on reading!**

Chapter 25:

The days following Harry Potter's escape from Malfoy Manor were filled with angst and punishment. The Malfoy's were told from Voldemort that they were lucky to be alive, and that the only honorable one was Draco. Although he should have taken that as a compliment, he didn't. He noticed his father's seething look at him when Voldemort had said it, then watched him storm to his side of the Manor when the meeting adjured. Pissed off and wanting only to be away from his father, Draco decided to storm off to his side of the Manor as well. Narcissa watched both her husband and son walk in opposite directions, sensing the anger coming off both of them. Though she loved her husband, her allegiance was first and for most to her son, so she trailed after him slowly, giving Draco time to cool down.

When Narcissa got to the library, she didn't even bother knocking to allow herself in. She closed the door behind her, and saw her son looking older than he ever had. He was wearing black pants, a white button-up with a black loosened tie around his neck, and his black suit coat was slung over one of the chairs. He was pacing in front of the table, on which laid a book. Narcissa eyed the book, but rose her gaze to her son.

"You did the right thing, Draco."

Draco didn't stop pacing. "She's gone again, that's all that matters."

"What matters is that she is as far away from this place as possible!" Narcissa replied shrilly, causing her son to stop in his tracks, with his jaw clenched, ready to argue. "You saved her life! I cannot believe I have to tell you this!"

"We're just back to square one!" Draco roared, throwing his hands in the air. "I don't know where she is or if she's safe!"

"When you love someone, son, you have to learn to let them go," Narcissa told him calmly and laced her hands in front of her black dress. "Your time to be with Hermione is not now."

"When will it be?" Draco demanded, looking his mother dead in her eyes now. But, his mother stood her ground, unmoving, her lips pursed. "If we even survive this war, that's not to say that things would change!"

"It all depends on the outcome," Narcissa replied.

"And then _he_ tells me that I'm the only one honorable! I am not fucking honorable, Mum! I am the exact opposite!" Draco kicked the table and the book flitted to the ground. Narcissa's eyes caught the flicker in writing. Draco had shielded the true contents of the book. "I don't know what to do!"

"You do as I tell you," she responded and raised her eyes to her son once more. "You did a noble thing saving Hermione. I do not doubt for one moment that you love her. Let me handle this, Draco. Get some rest."

With that, the witch left her son brooding in the library. She walked out of Draco's side of the Manor, out the kitchen doors, through the gardens, and to their owlrey. The walk and cool breeze had given her time to clear her head. Checking to make sure no one was around, she didn't once debate if this was the right thing to do. She quickly wrote a letter and sent it off, watching the owl fly away into the moonlight, hoping that her plan would work.

* * *

Hermione almost lost consciousness when Dobby has Apparated them out of Malfoy Manor. She felt her feet land on solid ground, but her eyes were half-closed and she felt the blood rushing down her arm. She was losing a lot of it; too much for her to comprehend. She smelled sea salt when she finally touched down, and inhaled the best she could. There was muffled screaming around her, and she was lifted off of her feet by strong arms, and carried for quite some time before being laid in something comfortable. It was then when she succumbed to the darkness.

 _"Mommy! Mommy! Can we go outside and play?"_ _came a voice to Hermione's left. She turned and saw her son running towards the door of the house, practically jumping up and down with excitement to go play on the beach directly in front of their home._

 _"Okay, but only for a little while, then its nap time," she resigned. The little boy squealed with delight as he opened the door and ran onto the porch._

 _Hermione followed him, seeing that he had taken an interest in his father, who was rocking back and forth in a chair on their wooden porch, reading The Prophet and letting the sea breeze gust through his blonde hair. Hermione smiled at her husband; she hadn't seen him all day because he had gone to London. He was wearing shorts that almost matched the sand on the beach and a white button-up shirt. She made her way towards her boys, feeling the warm wood under her feet._

 _"And just what are you up too?"_

 _"Daddy! Mommy told me we can play outside! Do you want to make swandcastles?"_

 _Draco looked up to Hermione with interest, who only leaned against the wall of their house, and crossed her arms, staring down at her three year old offspring with a twinkle in her eye. He picked up his son and put him in his lap before running a hand through his blonde hair._

 _"Alright, Scorpius, let's build some sandcastles."_

"Fleur! I need Dittany right away! She's loosing too much blood!" Bill called to his wife, who was in the kitchen fetching the necessary potions to heal Hermione. He looked up to his younger brother who was as pale as snow. "What the hell happened?"

"Bellatrix," Harry mumbled, his eyes fearful as he stared down at the girl on the table in front of him. Her blood was surrounding her, but she looked peaceful, as though she was lost in a blissful dream.

"I fucking hate her," Bill said and grabbed the Dittany the moment Fleur brought it to him. "How'd the hell did you manage to escape?"

"Well," Harry scratched the back of his head. "Hermione helped, and so did Malfoy."

Bill stopped what he was doing and blinked. "Ron – is this true?"

"Yep, the whole lot of it," Ron grumbled and took Hermione's hand. He squeezed it gently.

"Malfoy was the one who called for Dobby and told him to bring us somewhere safe," Harry explained as Bill went back to applying the Dittany.

"… _Scorpius_ ," Hermione whispered and twitched.

Bill looked up from her wound and eyed the boys who stared back at him unknowingly. "I wonder what that means."

"No idea," Ron muttered and sat down as he watched his older brother apply the Dittany to Hermione's wounds.

 _Hermione and Draco had watched their son make sandcastles for a good part of an hour. She couldn't get over how happy seeing the boys play made her. Draco had poured wet sand around the castle to make a moat, and then transfigured little fish in the moat, much to Scorpius' amusement. The little boy had grown tired, as much as three year olds can in the middle of the day with the summer sun beating down on them. Draco had opted to carry him into the house, but Scorpius refused, stubborn as always. He reached for Hermione's hand, and she led him into the house, followed by her husband._

 _"Do you have plans for the rest of the evening?" Hermione asked him._

 _"No, I'll be home," Draco replied and smiled at her._

 _"How about tomorrow?" she asked. She savored the sunlight warming her skin and the feeling of the sand between her toes. She loved it here; she felt safe._

 _"Tomorrow's our date," said Draco and took her other hand freely. She wrapped her fingers around his and met his eyes with a grin. "Well, Charity Ball. Lauren Lipp in the Department of Magical Catastrophizes made me really hate myself for declining the invitation."_

 _"And how much are we giving to them?" Hermione teased and poked him in the side with a finger. Scorpius moved between them and took both their hands as they walked back towards their home._

 _"Enough for another plaque on the wall, fifteenth year running, courtesy of Grandpa Lucius," Draco replied with a smirk. "Merlin, Hermione. You truly are beautiful."_

 _Hermione blushed. "You tell me every day. Why?"_

 _Draco smiled. "Because one day, I may lose you again. And I want you to know how much I truly and deeply love you."_

Harry couldn't find it in his heart to tell Ron that things were going to be okay. He knew they weren't going to be – ever. All of this newfound information put a huge twist on everything, including Hermione and Ron's relationship. He seriously hoped that Ron would not jump on her the moment she awoke. But, she had lost so much blood that she would soon be in a coma, and there was nothing Bill said he could've done to stop it. Her body was losing the will to fight. On the outside, she remained peaceful. On the inside, it was the exact opposite.

" _…Scorpius,"_ she whispered again.

Harry's eyebrows narrowed. Even if Bill and Ron were oblivious to anything but getting her bleeding under control, Harry was mentally connecting the dots. Scorpius was a constellation. As was Draco. As was Lucius. He looked at Hermione oddly, as though something clicked in his head.

"What is it, 'Arry?" Fleur asked, coming to stand beside him.

"Scorpius is a constellation," he said blankly and looked at Fleur.

"Yes," Fleur nodded, not understanding where he was going with this.

Harry bit his bottom lip, unsure of what to say. He had put together the pieces, but didn't like what it had given him. He had known that the Malfoy's always name their children after constellations, just as the Black's did. It was common knowledge. Hermione was whispering about Scorpius, and his eyes involuntarily drifted to Hermione's stomach…

"Oh my God," Harry whispered.

Bill applied the last bit of Dittany, and her blood finally stopped seething from her wounds. He stood up, a proud look on his face. "She'll be alright. Just needed to be patched up. She withstood that torture incredibly well."

"When will she wake up?" Harry pressed Bill.

"Not for a few hours," Bill replied. "You can question her then, but she needs rest right now."

Bill took Hermione upstairs with the help of Fleur while Harry and Ron stayed downstairs. A million things were racing through Harry's mind at that moment, and he didn't know what to do. He left Ron sitting in the chair in the living area and went outside. The sea-salt breeze made him calm, just a tad, before he went walking. His stomach was heaving, and he didn't understand anything going on around him. All he needed to do was find Horcruxes… what about the wand… and the stone? What about… this?

Luna, Dean, Griphook the Goblin, and Ollivander were all safe and recovering in Bill and Fleur's cottage. Dobby had gone back to Hogwarts right away to inform McGonagall of what had happened. No one was in the position to speak or plan at the moment, even though that was exactly what needed to be done. Harry couldn't focus on what should happen next. Bellatrix had been outrageously worried and territorial when she thought they had been in her vault at Gringotts… The Sword wouldn't have been that big of an issue; she was worried about something else. Since Voldemort trusted her the most out of all of his followers, what if he had used her vault for something more sinister… like a Horcrux?

"Harry! Hermione's awake!" Ron yelled from the cottage.

Had he been gone that long already? The time flew by as Harry had walked. He trudged back through the sand and breeze to the warmly lit cottage by the sea, until he saw his best friend's red hair partnered with his brother's and Fleur's. They cautioned him before he went up to see her, but he insisted that he spoke to her alone first. Ron tried to come with him, but Harry gave him a threatening look, knowing he would pounce down her throat for her relationship with Malfoy. Bill and Fleur backed Harry up and took Ron outside to see the property while Harry cracked open Hermione's bedroom door.

"Hey," he said meekly to her as he closed it behind him. Hermione looked better than she had a few hours before; there was color beginning to come back into her cheeks now, but her hair was still tangled, and there was a bit of dried blood on her clothes.

She turned her head to face him and smiled. "Hey, Harry."

Harry sat down on the bed beside her and returned her smile. "How are you feeling?"

"Better," Hermione replied but raised her bandaged arm. He could already see the "mudblood" seeping out from her blood attempting to get through the bandages. "That'll never go away."

Harry winced. "Don't think of it as anything, Hermione. Names are just names."

"I know," Hermione said.

"I'm thankful that Malfoy got us out," Harry offered and took her hand. Hermione's eyes lit up when Harry mentioned his name, and his heart began to sink. "I won't say that I misjudged him yet, but that was brave."

"He told me he loves me," Hermione whispered, her eyes now focusing on the blankets pooling around her. "He told me we would see eachother again."

"I have no doubt of that," Harry shook his head.

Hermione looked up into her best friend's eyes. "I hope the Death Eaters and You-Know-Who didn't find out about us."

"I don't think they did," came Harry's reply, smooth as butter. "His mother yelled at him to get you out of the Manor. And when Bellatrix was torturing you, we could see her restraining him from attacking his Aunt and saving you."

Hermione's breath caught. "I… I want to see him right now… I want to thank him."

"You'll the opportunity."

"How do you know?" Hermione asked.

Harry eyed her stomach again then met her hazel eyes. "I just do. And so will you."

"What on earth do you mean by that?" Hermione demanded, becoming increasingly irritated with Harry.

Harry sighed. "When you were unconscious, you were whispering 'Scorpius.' Does that mean anything to you?"

Hermione stared back at him in bewilderment. "No, not at all."

"What is Scorpius, Hermione?" Harry asked. He knew she wasn't catching on to what he was throwing at her, and he couldn't believe that her brilliant brain was not keeping up. He gave her credit that there were potions in her system, but Scorpius was an unusual enough name that she should have figured it out.

"A constellation," came her instant reply as she stared at him like he was stupid.

Harry cleared his throat, knowing he had to tell her, no matter what the implications were. "So is Abraxas. So is Lucius. So is… Draco."

"Harry…" Hermione trailed off, realization suddenly coming to her. Her eyes filled with tears and her hands wandered to her stomach, and a tear dropped from her cheek onto her fingers. "Oh my God, no… no, how did this happen?"

"I'm guessing you slept with him?" Harry asked, close to tearing up himself. He had to clear his throat to take the lump out of it and bite his tongue to keep from having his eyes fill with tears.

"Once," Hermione whispered and her shoulders hunched. She turned to Harry with fear in her eyes. "Do you think… the Cruitatus… Did it harm…"

Harry shook his head. "We have no way to be sure, but… how far along would you be?"

"Three to four months," she said quietly, her heart full but her mind panicked. "I cast a charm…"

"It obviously did not work," Harry allowed a little laugh. "You might not have cast it correctly, or you may have not be in your right state of mind."

Although it wasn't like Hermione to not cast magic correctly, she knew it was possible. "Why didn't I notice before?"

"You haven't taken a normal shower in months, let alone seen yourself in anything besides baggy clothes?" Harry offered her his hand and helped her out of her bed. He led her to the mirror on the other side of the room, holding her steady, as she wobbled just a bit. "Why don't you take a look?"

Half frightened, Hermione cast a long look at Harry before lifting up her grey jumper, turning herself sideways. Staring back at her was a little budge in her belly. She stared at it for a great while in disbelief and then turned to Harry and collapsed on him in tears. Gently, he lowered her to the floor, and gathered her in his arms, rocking her back and forth gently, knowing they wouldn't be going anywhere anytime soon. But, when they did, the first thing he was going to do would be to owl Narcissa Malfoy.

* * *

Bill let out a low whistle as Harry explained the situation to him. Fleur had stopped her knitting and listened intently about halfway through. Harry had taken advantage of the fact that Ron could now go see Hermione, and allowed her to let him know she was alright while he sought advice from Bill and Fleur. He only hoped Ron hadn't been listening around the corner the entire time.

"That is quite the predicament," Bill said and rubbed his chin.

"I don't know what to do," Harry said helplessly. "Hermione doesn't know what to do."

"She loves 'im," Fleur said softly, deep in thought. "And he loves 'er? If you're sure about it, 'Arry, it gives you more incentive to defeat You-Know-Who."

"I already have enough incentive," Harry mused. "This is just complicating things."

"We have to keep Hermione and the baby safe," Bill said. "If You-Know-Who or the Order finds out that she is pregnant with Malfoy's child, then things will become tricky."

"I already sent an owl to his mother," Harry told them. "I know it was risky, but they can't track owl post, and I had it be exchanged twice along the way."

"Good thinking," Bill nodded. "We have to pull Hermione out of the quest to find the Horcruxes. There is no other option. She is much too far along, plus that baby will be key to uniting families."

"What about Ron?" Harry asked, with a hint of panic in his voice.

"Ron will… get over it," Bill said, not rather gently. He exchanged a look with his wife before turning back to Harry. "He will be fine, Harry. Ron won't hold a grudge forever. I think it's best that we let her tell him too."

"YOU'RE WHAT?!" came Ron's bellowing voice from upstairs.

"I think we better go supervise," Bill sighed and rose from the table quickly, followed by Harry and Fleur, hastily on the back of his feet.

* * *

Narcissa re-read the parchment a hundred times before ripping it into a thousand pieces and burning it with the tip of her wand. She quickly marched out of her room and down the hallway, past Lucius and Nott discussing Ministry business, past the God-awful snake in the middle of her home, past Sparky whose large eyes only followed her, and straight into the library where she saw her son munching on a sandwich that Sparky had inevitably brought him. He looked up to her, and when he saw the look on her face, he carefully put his food and book down and slowly rose to his feet.

"You need to leave," Narcissa told her son.

Draco had to double-take her words and process them before he responded. "What?"

"You need to leave immediately," Narcissa replied. "I will make arrangements with the Dark Lord to explain your absence."

"Why?" Draco demanded, his eyes narrowed at his mother.

"There's no time to explain," Narcissa replied. "Go to your room and pack your things."

She didn't give him time to respond. Instead, she walked out of the library, down the hallway again, and to her husband, politely excusing him away from Nott and pulling him into their bedroom where she shut the door, locked it, and cast a silencing charm. She turned to face him with a look on her face that Lucius had only seen once before. It worried him.

"Cissa? Do you mind explaining to me what is so urgent?" he demanded.

"You need to send Draco on assignment," Narcissa told her husband. Lucius raised his eyebrows in the same way Draco did, studying his wife. "Out of respect for your family, I am going to ask you not to ask why or where."

"I'm assuming you're not going to tell me where he's going anyway," Lucius replied. Narcissa didn't reply until her husband finally gave in. "Cissa, there better be a good reason for this."

"You know as well as I do that there is," Narcissa replied and crossed her arms. "This is our son we are talking about, Lucius! We have had this conversation many times before!"

"Even before you left on holiday when you believed he was dead," Lucius sighed. "Say I agree – what do I tell The Dark Lord?"

"That you sent Draco on assignment," Narcissa answered him. "This is a purely private matter."

Lucius thought for a moment. "Very well, Cissa. I demand a full explanation when he gets back."

"You will get an explanation, Lucius, but it will not be when he gets back," Narcissa replied coolly and eyed her husband menacingly. "You know the sacrifices I have made for this family, I expect you to return the favor."

"Cissa, you go too far!" Lucius barked, enraged. "Do you not think that I have put everything on the line for –"

"For the Dark Lord? Oh yes I know," Naricssa replied, strangely calm. "I know all too well the risks you have put on this family, but sacrifices I have yet to see."

Lucius sighed. "I will go inform the Dark Lord that Draco has business to attend too outside of the Manor."

Narcissa thanked her husband and left their room. She knew that Lucius wouldn't disobey a direct order from her out of respect, and this had been the first time she had legitimately put her foot down assertively to her husband. But, this was also her grandchild and son on the line. Lucius could not know about the baby until after the war, just in case she misjudged him and his allegiance had turned. When she got to Draco's room, she noticed that he had packed his suitcase and stared at her with the most particular look on his face.

"I don't suppose you know what's going on," he said.

"Son, your life is about to change greatly," Narcissa stared into the eyes of her son, and put her hands on his shoulders. "I want to remind you that even in war, good things can and will happen. Please believe me."

Draco raised an eyebrow. "I wish you would tell me where I'm going and why."

"Don't act like you haven't wanted to leave the Manor," Narcissa scolded him quietly.

Draco looked away. "It hasn't really been an option to leave."

"Your Father is informing The Dark Lord you are going on assignment," his mother explained and raised his chin so he looked at her. She pulled a piece of parchment out of her hand and stuffed it into his with tears in her eyes. "Apparate here. I will miss you."

Draco kissed his mother's cheek and told her that he would indeed miss her too before he stepped around her and grabbed his suitcase. He left the Manor only wondering where he was being sent too and why he was being sent there. As soon as he made it past the Apparation wards, he pulled the piece of parchment and stared at it in confusion before thinking of shell cottage and feeling his feet lift off the ground into nothingness.


	26. Chapter 26

_Talk about a plot twist! There's many reasons why Hermione is pregnant with Scorpius, and there's reasons why she did not know about it, too. Those will be revealed later on. Now, remember: Scorpius is very important to the outcome of the war, as is Hermione and Draco's relationship. And remember that The Order knew that this could happen, and it was "very dangerous putting them together." What we thought Snape meant by that was because of their past, they would not get along and possibly end up killing eachother. However, he meant something entirely different. They created a life that will play a pivotal role in the wizarding world. So, let's continue on and see how Draco takes the news of being a father… and how Ron reacts to this whole entire situation._ **Frogster – I thought you'd left me forever. Thanks for catching that mess up there. Normally I do my homework, this time I didn't. :P I'm glad you enjoyed that little glimpse into the future! Imranramji1 – You best belieeeevvvee you're getting an update. I do it just to spite you; you know it. Guest – There will be a ton of fighting in this chapter; if you make it through without crying, you get a cookie. Pgoodrichboggs – I'm also glad he will be with her, it'll make things a lot easier. BUT that doesn't mean that he doesn't go back to Voldemort. KissMiInk – Cat got your tongue? ;) Here's your next chapter! ZephyrLegend – I told you it was insane.**

Chapter 26:

Narcissa pulled the grey fabric of her jacket tighter around her bodice, shielding her face from the late March rain. She looked up as she passed the people of London; the sky was grey and overcast. It was misting so much it almost covered her ankles. She pushed past the ladies crowding around the entrance of a fancy restaurant, excusing herself, and walking up to the host stand. The young man standing there immediately looked up at her with a sense of admiration.

"Mrs. Malfoy, good afternoon! Are you meeting someone?" he asked hastily.

"No, Nicholas, not today," Narcissa replied. "I just need to slip over to the bar."

"Go right ahead," the young man nodded in the direction of the bar.

Narcissa smiled at him before taking down her hood and moving slowly through the crowded people in the restaurant to the left side where the bar and restrooms were. She was indeed meeting someone, and she had a feeling that that person would stand out like a sore thumb. However, everyone around her was dressed in blacks, greys, whites, and blues, all with a sense of regality about them. She carefully took off her gloves and put them in her pocket. The barkeep nodded to her from behind the countertop. Narcissa frequented the establishment and knew this particular man by name; it was Cody. She moved past the man and the bar to the back part of the darkened restaurants where the restrooms were located.

She opened the door, gripping the heavy metal handle, and pulling it open to see the person she was looking for inside. The woman's blue eyes rose to hers, so very much alike, but different in every regard. Narcissa closed the door and locked it so they would not be interrupted. She did give the woman credit, however, as she wasn't dressed as she usually would be. She was wearing a long black dress with a black overcoat and her hair was swept into a tight bun on the top of her head. She looked much different than usual, so different that Narcissa would not have recognized her.

"I am sorry to call you on such short notice," Narcissa apologized to the woman.

"Nonsense," Molly Weasley replied and waved her hand. "What did you need to tell me?"

Narcissa sighed and clasped her hands in front of her body. "Harry Potter, Hermione Granger, and your son were captured by Snatchers and brought into my home a few weeks ago. My son formulated a plan with the house elf, Dobby, to get them out safely. And Draco was able to do just that, but Bellatrix tortured Hermione, and she was gravely injured. I know Dobby took them to your son, Bill's, home. But, there has been a development."

Molly raised her eyebrows. "Go on, Narcissa."

"Hermione is pregnant with Draco's child," Narcissa replied curtly, and sighed, covering her lips with one of her hands to restrain from crying. Molly's eyes widened and she had to catch herself on the sink to keep from falling over. "She is carrying the next Malfoy heir."

"The Order knew this could happen," Molly said softly. "Arthur and I tried to tell them, Narcissa."

"I do not care that it is Hermione that Draco chose to fall in love with, in fact, I think he couldn't have chosen anyone better," Narcissa said. "I do not care about blood-status as my husband does. But, that is why he must not find out."

"Absolutely," Molly agreed. "If either side knows, both of them would use the baby for their advantage."

Narcissa's eyes grew teary as she sighed. "We cannot allow that to happen. Draco is with Hermione right now. Potter owled me."

"Harry did?" Molly's eyes widened and looked as though they were about to bulge out of their sockets. "What did he say?"

"That Hermione was pregnant and to have Draco go to shell cottage immediately," Narcissa replied. Molly looked to the side. "I have to assume that they just found out."

"I worry for the baby," Molly said into her hand. "They're in capable hands, though. I have no doubt of that."

"Good," Narcissa nodded. "As soon as the situation is resolved, Draco will need to come back to the Manor. I've only granted him temporary leave. Anything more than a few days to a week will look suspicious, and we cannot have suspicions arising."

"I agree," Molly concurred. "I will inform shell cottage to send Draco back by Thursday next."

The two women shared a look that was both motherly and understanding. Molly knew that Narcissa wasn't as evil as her husband, and knew she obviously did not see things the way that the Dark Lord did. But, she was taking precautions, which was why she did not go to McGonagall or Snape. Molly was the best to keep the secret, and she understood just what Narcissa was going too. If The Order had the baby, it would use it for their gain – just as Voldemort would. Narcissa was more worried about the baby's bloodline, and how his magic would be used to influence the outcome of the wizarding world. Either way, this child would be powerful. The prophecy foretold this.

* * *

Draco breathed sea salt and was reminded of the Malfoy vacation home in France when his feet hit solid ground. For a moment, he wondered if that was where his mother sent him. But, the moment he opened his eyes, he saw that he was definitely not at his vacation home. His grey eyes looked around in bewilderment, wondering where in the world he was and why was he there. He quickly transfigured his suitcase into a pocket-sized version and began walking over the sandy dues until he saw a cottage sitting on the sea shore. That must have been where he was wanted.

It took a while for Draco to see a head of unkempt black hair waiting for him about fifty feet away from the cottage. He immediately recognized Potter, and his mind began to race. Why the hell was Potter here? What was his mother playing at? But, then he realized that Hermione was probably with him. As he approached his arch-nemesis, Draco saw the look on Potter's face was absolutely grave. His made Draco's heart sink, and he tucked his wand in the pocket of his dress pants as a sign of good faith to Potter.

"Malfoy," he said and gave him a brisk nod.

"Potter. I don't assume you have any reason as to why I'm here."

Harry allowed himself a small chuckle. "This time, it's not my fault. I thought we could walk and talk for a moment before I took you inside?"

Draco held his hand out in front of him and the two men began to walk towards the cottage.

"Hermione told me about your relationship," Harry began and Draco clenched his jaw, trying hard to restrain from interrupting Potter right then and there. "I'm not going to reprimand you, but do know that I don't understand how or why at all. But, what you did at the Manor… That took true bravery, and maybe I gained some respect for you."

"You should know that the feeling is mutual," Draco replied. "I still think you're the biggest prat I know though, and that will never change."

Harry grinned. "And you're still a git. But, there must be some good in you for Hermione to fall in love with you."

"You're giving me too much credit, Potter," Draco sneered. "You still haven't told me why I'm here."

"You will find out soon enough," Harry told the blonde as they drew closer to the cottage. "You must know that Ron is here too, and he didn't take the news of your and Hermione's relationship well."

Draco rolled his eyes in the prissiest manner in which he would. "Are you surprised, Potter? This is the Weasel we're talking about. I'm surprised he can even tie his shoes."

"Well…" Harry said with a smile and Draco snickered. "Don't ever bring that up, Malfoy, or I'll have Hermione hex you into next week."

"Thanks for the warning, Potter, but I can handle myself," Draco said. The two were at the door of the cottage now.

Harry took a deep breath. "Here goes nothing."

The moment the door opened, Hermione saw a flash of blonde hair, and she was out of her seat before Draco could even step foot inside of the cottage. Her arms were around him, her head in his shoulder, and her eyes full of tears. Draco staggered backwards at first, his eyes wide in confusion about the little body around him, but then they closed and he wrapped his arms around Hermione as well. He had thought this was too good to be true at first, but his mind processed that it was actually her holding onto him. His chest relaxed and he snuggled himself against the side of her head.

"Hey," he whispered, bringing one of his hands up to the side of her face and pulling her back so he could see her properly. He stared into her hazel eyes, seeing they were filled with tears and immediately felt the need to make them go away. "Hermione, if you start crying, I'll turn right back around and leave."

Hermione sniffled. "I can't believe you're here…"

"Yeah, that makes two of us," Draco murmured and decided it was time to look at his surroundings.

An older man that looked like Ron but more distinguished was standing at the table in the kitchen with his hands on the back of a chair, and was eyeing him over. The look on his face was not disapproval but it wasn't acceptance either. Next to him was a girl that had silver-blonde hair and blue eyes. She looked familiar – she was one of the champions at the Triward Tournament. Fleur, Draco thought her name was. But, then there was the Weasel. He sat next to Fleur, and his eyes were so full of hate that Draco was surprised Ron could handle that much emotion. Draco carefully untangled his arms from around Hermione's back as Potter went to take his seat next to his best friend.

"I'm sure you two have lots to talk about," Harry said with a pointed look to Ron.

Hermione took Draco's hand and yanked him outside before he could protest otherwise. This was the first time she had been outside following the incident, and was reminded of the dream she had of Draco and their son… Maybe it was something real, after all. She hadn't planned out how she was going to tell Draco that she was carrying his child, and she thought it best maybe to just tell him instead of planning it vigorously…

The two walked in silence down the beach for a while, hand in hand. Hermione hadn't worn shoes or socks, and relaxed at the feeling of the sand between her toes and the sea wind in her hair. It was still mildly cold outside; a good 50 degree day. She wore skinny jeans, a black t-shirt, a navy blue button-up, and a brown cardigan over top of it. Her hair was loose and hanging down below her bust now in easy curls. There was a hint of blonde in there now from being out in the sunlight for so long. Draco felt out of place next to her, in his normal black ensemble. But, Hermione didn't seem to mind. Draco noticed that she had healed quite well after the torture with the exception of a few bruises here and there and that God-awful fucking mark on her arm… But, Hermione also noticed that Draco had received his fair share of punishment: a scar was running down the side of his left eye on his perfectly porcelain skin. Their marks were proof that they had withstood punishment for what they believed in.

When Hermione was sure that she couldn't take it anymore, she stopped. She sat down on the cool sand, and inhaled the breeze while she waited for Draco to sit beside her. He did, much to his disappointment of having his clothes become sandy. But, his curiosity was getting the best of him. He turned to look to Hermione, seeing her staring off into the ocean. It was such a peaceful scene. He reached out and pushed a stray hair behind her ear and gave her a smile that she didn't see. Draco quite enjoyed their private time, and was rather pleased that Potter hadn't made an issue out of their relationship. He relaxed and studied the woman he loved.

"Draco," Hermione said almost dreamily. Draco tilted his head and raised his eyebrows. "I have something important to tell you." She hesitated before turning to look him dead in his grey eyes with the stare that she gave him when she was about torture him. Draco prayed this time it wouldn't involve him being thrown around and beaten beyond recognition. "I'm pregnant."

Draco felt his eyes blink but his mind stopped. All thought processes ceased to advance and he couldn't turn his eyes away from Hermione. He stared at her without reason and abandon until he felt his eyebrows cease to crease and the grip on her fingers slacken. Hermione never broke her stare with him, studying him as she said it. He didn't show much, but his expressions never did. His actions were what told her how he was feeling. But, even his actions now had ceased and he stared at her until she saw his lips begin to move.

"You're pregnant?" he whispered.

"I am," Hermione nodded.

Draco titled his head slightly, looking over the specimen in front of him, and slowly reached out with his fingers and his eyes asked for permission before he touched her. Hermione smiled in beckoning, and Draco placed his hand over her slim tummy, feeling a tiny bulge. A strange feeling washed over him; something between anxiety and happiness. He looked at her belly then up to her chocolate eyes, unsure of what to say until reason kicked in.

"We used a charm," he told her.

"It obviously didn't work," was her reply.

"Obviously," Draco said softly. Hermione put her hand over top of his on her stomach and looked at him to continue. "How did you find out?"

"Harry," Hermione answered and immediately saw the look of anger on Draco's face. "No, when we landed here, I lost consciousness from the blood loss. Harry said I was whispering 'Scorpius', and he put two and two together. Scorpius is a constellation and –"

"The Black family always named their offspring after astronomic names," Draco finished.

"Apart from your mother," Hermione put in.

"She was named after a flower," Draco said and thought for a moment. "You didn't have any symptoms?"

"I threw up a few times, but I always thought it was from nerves," Hermione said slowly, studying Draco's face.

"This will change things," Draco muttered and turned back towards the sea to think. "How do you want to handle this?"

Hermione sighed. "I can't deny I haven't been thinking about it. But, we cannot let You-Know-Who know about the baby."

"That much is obvious," Draco snorted and ran a hand over his face. "I say we continue doing what we're doing. If you're four months along at most, hopefully five months is enough for Potter to destroy those damn Horcruxes and kill the Dark Bastard."

Hermione chuckled. "I think Harry will come through. What do we do after that?"

Draco turned towards Hermione. "We raise him. I like Scorpius for a name. It feels… right."

He put his hand back on Hermione's stomach and felt the heat from her skin seep through the fabric of her shirt. He didn't say anything, but Hermione could tell that he was in awe and admiration of the baby growing inside of her. Hermione, in all her high and might, was half tempted to ask Draco if it could possibly be a girl, but the name uttering of her unconscious self had proven quite the opposite. Draco, on the other hand, realized that his mother had been correct: "Even in war, good things can and will happen."

* * *

When Draco entered the cottage with Hermione, he hadn't expected a warm welcome. Hermione held onto his hand tightly, and led him to his chair after Bill had said that they had some things they needed to discuss. Draco sneered to himself; that seemed to be the running theme today. As soon as Draco was in his seat between Potter and Hermione, across the table from Ron, Bill began his discussion with his hands clasped in front of him, business-like and straight to the point.

"We have bad blood here for good reasons," Bill said to the table, looking between Ron and Draco. "But, we are all adults now, and I think everyone deserves an explanation."

Ron took that as his que to begin his rampage. "What the fuck do you see in him, Hermione!? This is the same person who bullied you throughout school, who made you feel completely insignificant! You cried to me so many times because of the things he said to you!"

"People change, Ronald," Hermione said, her voice weak with emotion, but stern with force.

"People like him do not change!" Ron barked and raised his hand to Draco, who had kept a straight face the entire time Ron had been yelling, much to his amazement because all he wanted to do was punch Ron in the face. "He's probably using you or worse!"

"Worse?" Draco asked with an eyebrow raised. Harry looked to Ron, his eyes telling him that he had gone too far. "How would I be using her?"

"To get close to Harry so you can tell You-Know-Who where he is!" Ron yelled. Hermione looked frantically back and forth between the two, unsure of how to handle the situation. "In case you haven't forgotten, Hermione, he is a BLOODY DEATH EATER!"

Draco clenched his jaw again, chewing on his tongue to keep from spitting fire. "A damn good one too, may I add, as I have been able to deceive the Dark Lord for months now."

"Deceive him how exactly?" Ron demanded, fury in his blue eyes. "By pretending to be in love with Hermione to get close to Harry?"

"May I remind you, Weasley, that while I was snogging Hermione, you and Potter were nowhere to be found and I was presumed dead," Draco said tiredly. He was enjoying watching Ron fume at the thought of Hermione snogging the Slytherin Prince.

"It still doesn't explain why you suddenly fell in love with her!"

"Believe me, Ron, it wasn't suddenly," Hermione said quickly. "It took months before we were even able to stand eachother and even longer to admit that we loved eachother!"

"This is a ploy!" Ron desperately tried to convince everyone at the table. "You stood by and watched while your Aunt tortured her in _your_ home!"

Draco gritted his teeth at the memory. "I had every intention of going after her myself, but I had to keep up appearances. How would it look if I went after her? It would have gotten all of us killed. And you're forgetting who got you out of the Manor. I believe thanks are in order for my act of 'bravery'."

"Malfoy's right, Ron," Harry said softly. "He did get us out."

"You brought a child into this!" Ron growled, seemingly remembering that Hermione was pregnant now. "In the middle of a war!"

This seemed to ignite Draco's flame and Hermione felt him tense under her hand. "Because I knowingly impregnated Hermione just to spite you. Good one, Weasley. Do you want a medal for the dumbest red-head on the face of the earth? Oh, wait, you already have those all over your bedroom walls at home, lined up by date and in alphabetical order."

"Draco…" Hermione whispered furiously and squeezed his hand hard. She reminded him of how his mother did so when they were at Death Eater meetings. He side-glanced her, but kept his grey eyes focused on Ron.

"Did you have more to say, Weasley? I'm all ears."

"You will never be a good father," Ron said lowly. Draco's eyebrows raised, and his vision tunneled at the man in front of him. "You'll turn out just like Lucius!"

That seemed to do it. One of them was across the table at the other, and it was impossible to tell who lunged first. Common sense said it was Draco, but emotion said it was Ron. Hermione was pulled out of the way by Bill before she was hit, and she reached for her wand to find out that it was not on her person. She watched the scene in front of her unfold in horror: Draco and Ron were rolling around on the table, throwing punches at one another in unison, and blood was splattered on the wood holding the table together, the wall behind them, and some cabinets.

They moved in such a blur that Hermione couldn't tell who had the upper hand. She screamed at them to stop, but they didn't seem to hear her or cared enough to hear her. Bill was attempting to separate them, and Harry had been thrown backwards by Ron twice. Hermione saw Ron land a punch to Draco's cheek, and blood come out of the right side of his lips. Draco kicked Ron off of him, but he was back on top of him almost instantly, repeatedly punching at anywhere on Draco's body he could find.

Draco attempted to shield himself and was doing a damn good job of it, considering he could've killed Weasley if he really wanted too. He didn't want to hurt him for fear of Hermione's wrath, but at the moment, he was getting the shite beat out of him and wouldn't stand for it much longer. Once again, he raised his legs to Ron's abdomen and kicked him backwards. The kick was good, and Ron attempted to sit up on the wooden table. Not a second passed before Draco tackled him down off the table by his mid-section, Ron hitting at the sides of Draco's head. Both of them hit the floor hard, the sound of glass shattering in their ears, and Draco heard Hermione's scream distantly in the back of his mind. He ignored it, even though he knew he shouldn't have.

He was on top now, and had the advantage. He raised his fist to hit Ron, seeing the bruised and bloody wizard beneath him wheezing for breath. The hit would knock him out, and that's what Draco desperately wanted. If he could just put the Weasel in his place, things would be so much easier. And besides, it wasn't like he didn't want to knock him out for years anyway…

"DRACO!"

Draco heard Hermione's shrill tone fill his ears, and he knew to take warning from it from previous experience. Reluctantly, he gave in and lowered his fist. He climbed off of Ron, staggering to his feet. His eyes found Hermione and limped over to her, realizing that his vision was lopsided and blurry from the repetitive hits he had endured. Hermione pulled him to her, seeing that there were tears in the fabric of his black suit, some of the buttons on his shirt were dislodged, and his tie was hanging around his neck. Harry helped his best friend to his feet, and took him to the other side of the room.

"Do you two feel better?" Bill asked, looking from Draco to his brother.

Draco sighed down at Hermione, who was staring at him with the glare of death. He ignored it and kissed her forehead, smearing a tad bit of blood on it. There was silence in the room until Bill spoke again, seeming to be the regulator between the two parties.

"Now that you two have that out of your system, I think the lesson learned from this is that this isn't going to change," Bill explained. Ron wiped the blood out of his mouth on the back of his hand as Draco spit blood onto the floor. "Nothing will change Hermione being pregnant. I think it's safe to assume that Malfoy isn't going anywhere."

"Hear that Weasley? I'm here to stay, lucky you," Draco spat. Hermione would've hit him if he wasn't already bruising.

"Piss off, Malfoy," Ron grumbled. He would have hit the Slytherin again if he wasn't already suffering from a possible concussion.

"Hermione, take Malfoy upstairs and get him cleaned up," Bill instructed her. "Harry, take Ron downstairs. In the morning, we are all going to pretend like this never happened."

Draco allowed Hermione to lead him up the stairs of the cottage to the bathroom three doors down and to the left. She sat him down on the toilet, and closed the door, then pulled a rag out of the wooden cupboard to their right. She wet it and pushed it against his skin, wiping the blood off of his skin gently, careful not to hurt him or press on the bruises.

"That went well," he said softly and met her eyes with a smile.

Hermione shook her head, but didn't say anything. She just continued to wipe blood off of the blonde's skin. It got to the point where she had to take off his clothing to study the various bruising on his body. Draco noticed how her eyes trailed over his pale skin with desire, though she was desperately trying to hide it. Knowing he could handle himself, he pulled himself up off the toilet seat and shrugged off his suit coat, letting it drop to the floor beside her. He unbuttoned what was left of his shirt buttons and tossed his shirt to the ground as well. As he undid his belt buckle, he turned to meet Hermione's eyes, daring her to come into the shower with him and giving her a grin that the devil himself would be proud of.

She watched him as he undressed and stood, meeting his eyes, and studied him as he pulled back the shower curtain. She titled her head to the side and her feet moved to their own accord; following the blonde into the shower, unsure of what she was doing, almost as though she was blinded and lost in a daze of pheromones and sweat… And she liked it.


	27. Chapter 27

_Wow, so we got the fighting out of the way, but that doesn't mean it's over for good. Ron is still super pissed about the whole situation, while Hermione and Draco are trying to figure out how they're going to make this work. Remember – if both sides found out about Scorpius, they would use him to further their causes, because he is foretold to be very powerful. Oh yeah, prophecy. A prophecy foretold that a baby would be born, similar to Harry, and would change the world with his powers. This baby would be born to a traitor and a mudblood, so it told. Narcissa knew about it, but how? We'll find out. Beteedubs, there is a lemon in this chapter. Yay Lemonade! :P REVIEW guys! I love hearing from you! Also, as always, feel free to follow me on Twitter (Breanne_dodds) or Insta: Breannesawriter!_ **Imranramj1- I will certainly give your story a look. Prophecy explanation above! Pgoodrichboggs – The fighting was incredible to write, and it showed how Draco can be possessed by the dark side even if he's not around Voldemort. It's important to know that. And yes, LEMONADE! Frogster – Molly is such an important figure, and I thought she would be a wonderful fit. Scorpius will be very magically gifted, hence why The Order/Voldemort would want him. I'm super excited about writing a magical pregnancy! YAY! KissMiInk – I'm glad you're into the story! I'll update quickly to keep it going!**

Chapter 27:

Both parties involved knew that keeping Hermione's pregnancy a secret forever was incredibly undoable. Soon, she would be showing, and that's when the questions would begin to arise. Although lying was a viable option, or concealment charms, it wouldn't be the road taken. Hermione had been adamant about not giving birth to Scorpius while keeping her pregnancy concealed from the world, and Draco had agreed. Harry had thought that Draco would have been beyond pissed about the situation, but seeing the way he had attacked Ron – or vice versa – and stopped when Hermione had yelled his name, he was beginning to lose his hatred for the Slytherin, although he would never admit it.

"This is such bullshit," Ron grumbled as Harry grabbed a towel from the cupboard of the downstairs bathroom.

Harry sighed. "Bill's right; there is nothing we can do to change it. I don't like it either."

"What if he is just using her?" Ron demanded and winced as he touched a bruise on the side of his forehead. "What if he's using her to get to you?"

"I highly doubt that," Harry replied and stripped down to get into the shower. "Even if he was, there's a baby being brought into this now so… that changes things."

The mention of the baby made the look on Ron's face scrunch, looking as though he wanted to hurl. "She shagged him! She didn't even want to shag me! How is Malfoy more appealing than I am?"

Harry stiffened a laugh as he climbed into the shower. "Ron, you know Hermione. She'll only sleep with someone she loves – she's very particular about these things."

"What did I do to drive her away, Harry?" Ron asked, his voice softer now.

Harry closed his eyes to calm himself. "I think they were victims of circumstance. They were forced to be together for a long time. Eventually, they grew to have feelings for one another. When Hermione told me, I was just as pissed as you are. But, I saw what he did at the Manor. You saw the look on his face when he saw Hermione was with us."

"I also saw when he identified us," Ron growled. "And when he took her to go do Merlin knows what!"

Harry shook his head even though Ron couldn't see him from behind the shower curtain. He hadn't even turned the water on yet, so he made a point of doing that before he continued. "They were planning our escape, Ron. Which reminds me, as sickening as it is, you do owe Malfoy your life."

He couldn't hear Ron fuming, but he could see it in his mind. "I don't owe him anything."

"If Malfoy hadn't taken Hermione and figured out how to escape, we would have been dead and the world would be in You-Know-Who's hands," Harry explained to his friend. "He put a lot on the line getting us out like that."

"You're defending him."

The statement was blank, accusational, and to the point. Ron's voice never wavered as he said it, because he knew it was true. Harry was defending Malfoy, and it made him even sicker than the thought of Hermione shagging him.

"I suppose," Harry shrugged and began to wash his hair. "I never thought the day would come. Regardless, you see the way he looks at her –"

"Like a piece of meat."

"No," Harry retorted. "He… he does love her."

"It makes me want to vomit," Ron grumbled. "Hermione is loveable, sure, but how did she fall in love with such an arrogant piece of shite?"

Harry sighed. "That's really the question now, isn't it…"

* * *

Draco pushed Hermione against the glass of the shower, his naked body up against hers, and her stomach pressing against the glass. He peppered kisses down the side of her neck and shoulders, noting how they curved ever so slightly. His fingers crept up her sides and over her stomach to her breasts and he held onto them, giving them a firm squeeze resulting in a strangled yelp from her. Hermione's brown hair was tangled around his cheeks, and her lips were rounded in the perfect O, her breath steaming up the glass of the shower.

The young man ran his hand from her breast to her thigh, smacking her ass with a loud slap, and Hermione tensed. Draco smiled to himself and turned her around so he could see her perfectly. Her hair was wet and fell down below her bust, and her chocolate eyes studied him to see what his next move would be. After he had gotten into the shower, Hermione knew that this time would be no ounce of lovemaking. There was so much built up emotion on both of their parts that it needed to come out, and this was the safest release.

"I missed you," he whispered as his lips joined to hers once again.

"You keep saying that," she whispered back through heavy kisses and roaming hands.

Draco bit her bottom lip, causing her to lurch forward. He took that as an invitation to lift her up around his waist, without warning, sliding his length into her. Hermione's head titled back in surprise as she whimpered at the new feeling. Smiling to himself, Draco held her in the shower, the jet of water soaking his back, and began moving her up and down slowly. Hermione sighed into his mouth, her moans dissolving in the back of his throat.

"Do you like that?" he whispered.

"Yes," she whimpered softly, tensing her body to accommodate him.

It wasn't long before they were both on the floor of the shower, crumbled in a heap of limps, water, and moaning, with the urge to keep moving, whatever the cost. Hermione sought her release with the help of Draco. He thrusted in and out of her quickly now, tilting his head back and enjoying every moment of it. Hermione's sweet moans filled his ears, and her mewls tingled through him like fire. If she kept doing that, he wouldn't last very much longer…

"Don't… stop…" she murmured, her hands creeping up his chest, and her hair pooling with the water from the shower. She was in heaven… or as close to heaven as she could get.

Draco didn't stop – in fact, he continued until he felt her unravel about him and gave a few extra thrusts to send him toppling over the edge, exploding into her, and leaning over the woman with dominance and possessiveness. She stared up at his grey eyes, studying him. Her fingers traced over his biceps and abs until they rested on his chest, to which Draco merely smiled. He pulled her into a sitting position between his legs, where the shower could still reach them, and wrapped his arms around her, pulling her tightly to him.

"I'm glad we did that," she whispered against his neck. Hermione made it a point to kiss all the water-droplets off of his porcelain skin.

"You and me both," he murmured and let his head rest against the back of the shower wall. "I do feel kind-of dirty doing it in a Weasley's household, though."

Hermione lightly smacked him. "Say Harry does defeat You-Know-Who… what happens to us then, providing we, you know… survive?"

Draco sighed and felt his anxiety come back, forming a headache in his frontal lobe. "Just had to be the buzzkill, didn't you? Well, I suppose we would inherit the Manor and all the vacation homes my parents have, providing my father goes to Azkaban, which he probably will."

"I don't think I'll ever be able to set foot in that house again," Hermione shuddered violently at the memory of Bellatrix torturing her.

Draco pulled her closer to his body in an attempt to comfort her. "I wouldn't either. Rather reeks in there… and your blood stained my mother's favorite rug. Imagine her face if I walked in there with you." Sensing Hermione's apprehensiveness, he continued. "We have a vacation property in France. It's a lot like this, actually."

Hermione nodded, closing her eyes. "I kept having dreams about you when I was unconscious."

"Oh?"

"We were on a beach… We had a home there," Hermione explained, realizing that the property in France could have indeed been what she had dreamt about. "Scorpius was about three, and you had just given a large sum of money to a charity."

Draco raised an eyebrow. "Probably The Donations of Crippled Witches and Wizards fund. My father gives to them every year for as long as I can remember."

"Maybe," Hermione said tiredly, making herself comfortable against Draco's lean frame. "Is that our plan then? Raise Scorpius in France?"

"We'll have to have a home in England," Draco said matter-of-factly. "We can't be too far away from my mother, she would throw a fit. She'll want us there for every holiday, and probably twice a week for dinner."

Hermione's eyes opened. "Your mother knows about our relationship?"

Draco cleared his throat. "Of course she does. Unlike my father, she is very accepting of the fact that I chose you. My father does not know, however, and he won't know until after The Dark Lord is gone for good. Otherwise, he would have you killed or worse."

"Even if I'm pregnant with his grandchild?" Hermione asked, her mind beginning to race at the worry she was beginning to succumb too.

Draco stroked her damp hair thoughtfully. "The Malfoy line is strictly pureblood. He wouldn't accept Scorpius as the Malfoy heir, even though he technically is."

"Maybe he'll just have to get over it," Hermione whispered, more to herself than to Draco, but it still earned her a chuckle from the man holding onto her.

"I have a feeling he will," Draco replied and continued stroking her hair.

The two sat in silence for a while longer before the water began to grow cold. Draco grew irritated with it so he scopped Hermione up into his arms and took her out of the shower, setting her on the cool floor before turning off the water and getting out as well. He pulled a black sweater and khakis out of his suitcase and threw them on, and Hermione only put on her jeans and button-up. The two didn't speak much, but brushed hands and smiled at one another when their eyes met. It was an odd scenario but it was happy, it was homey for the time being.

* * *

When they went outside the seclusion of the bathroom and down the stairs, Draco noticed that the table had been set for dinner, and it was occupied by only Harry. When he saw the two, he meagerly looked up and explained that The Order had called a meeting to Bill and Fleur had to leave immediately and Ron had fancied a walk after hearing banging around upstairs. Draco smirked as he sat down at the table next to Hermione.

"You two got your shite figured out?" Harry asked, putting a spoon full of mashed potatoes on his plate and then filling each of theirs up as well.

"For the most part," Hermione replied and took the plate. "The rest relies on you."

"I was thinking, and _maybe_ Malfoy can help with this," he said, shooting Draco an annoyed look which the young Slytherin shot right back. "Bellatrix was awfully possessive of her vault when she thought we had broken into it. I was thinking maybe she was keeping something sinister in there."

"If you're thinking of a bloody Horcurx, you're probably right, as much as that pains me to say, Potter," Draco said and helped himself to some chicken. "The LeStrange vault is known for its collection of dark artifacts, so it wouldn't surprise me if the Dark Bastard decided to throw it in there."

"Hermione said you knew about the Horcruxes," Harry pointed his fork at him.

"I do," Draco nodded and took a mouthful of food. "And believe me, Potter, I'm surprised you had the stomach to do in four of them already. You never struck me as the type."

Harry rolled his eyes. "You're mildly pleasant to be around right now, Malfoy. Did Hermione curse you?"

Draco sneered. "Happiness tends to occur when you get laid."

Harry ignored the deep blush spreading across Hermione's cheeks. "Right then – if I remember right, the Horcrux would have to have something to do with Hufflepuff. A cup, I think."

It was like a lightbulb flashed in Draco's mind. "That would be the one. Gold, about this big. He moved it right after he said something about you and him having this 'connection.' Bloody weird, if you ask me."

"If you think I like having it, then you're dead wrong. But, you normally are," Harry replied.

Hermione's eyes widened. "Is that how you knew about the cup? Harry, I told you not to let him in! If you can see where he's at, he can see where you are! He will find you! What if he sees Draco?"

Harry looked at Draco for the first time in his life for backing. "Be a mate, would you?"

Draco shrugged and took another bite of dinner. "If he sees me, it's like looking at perfection, Hermione. There's nothing to be worried about, I would have just stunned him with my handsomeness."

"How you two can be so civil and ignorant at the same time is beyond me!" Hermione barked.

"Relax, 'Mione," Harry said with a hint of laughter in his voice. "It's the only way I know about the Horcruxes. I wouldn't have gotten this far without it."

"As much as it pains me to agree with The Immortal Orphan, he's right," Draco said to Hermione. "If you want to get rid of The Dark Lord for good, Potter has to have this weird ass connection to him. Back to the cup… Since it's at Gringotts, you'll have to get the help of that Goblin you took with you. He's the only one who knows how to get into the bank without detection."

"Griphook hasn't woken yet," Harry said. "Do you think he'll help us?"

"Probably not," Hermione murmured. "Goblins tend to keep to themselves. They don't like wizards with good reason."

Draco scoffed. "Goblins are just prejudice. He'll help you as long as he gets something out of it."

"You're sure You-Know-Who moved the cup to Gringotts?" Hermione asked Draco.

"If you're doubting me already, there's an issue," Draco said to her, then turned his attention to Harry. "You need to go talk to that Goblin."

Harry nodded. "Erm… thanks for your help, Malfoy. I… never would have expected it."

"You and me both, Potter," he replied and watched as Ron entered the room. He couldn't resist the urge to make him jealous or angry again. He snaked an arm around the back of Hermione's chair to prove his point. "Where've you been, Weasel Bee? Catching butterflies?"

Ron ignored him and sat down beside Harry, eyeing Draco with hatred. "What did I miss?"

"The next Horcrux is in the LeStrange vault in Gringotts. It's Hufflepuff's cup," Hermione explained, earning her a glare from Ron. Obviously, he did not want to speak to either of one of the couple in front of him. "We'll, uh… have to get help from Griphook."

"Fat chance," Ron scoffed and leaned back in his chair. "Goblins are tricky. He won't help us unless there's something he wants."

"I told you," Draco said and looked at Harry pointedly. "Did I not say that, Hermione? I'm pretty sure I did, but I –"

"Yes, you did," Hermione cut him off and turned her attention back to Harry and Ron. "We have to break into Gringotts."

"That is completely impossible!" Ron said and slammed his hands down on the table. "No one has ever gotten away with it… let alone tried it."

Harry raised his eyebrows. "It's the only way, Ron."

"You two are absolutely mad," Ron shook his head and stood up. He began pacing.

"Ron, it truly is the only way," Hermione tried, saying it softly in a tone that made Draco look at her with discomfort. "Please, we can't do it without you."

Hermione could tell that he was tempted to walk out of the cottage and back onto the sand dunes again, but to her relief, he turned to face them. "Fine, let's go talk to that bloody Goblin."

"I have to speak to them, Bill," Harry repeated flatly, and Hermione stood watching Bill, Fleur, and Harry argue. Fleur was adamant that Ollivander and Griphook not to spoken too until they were ready to be moved to Ron and Bill's Aunt Muriel's, but Harry knew the importance of speaking to them right away and was trying to get his point across. "You're in The Order, you know how important this is!"

Hermione watched as Fleur looked at him in discomfort, but Bill nodded.

"Alright, Harry, who do you need to speak with first?"

"Griphook," Harry's answer was nothing short than immediate.

Bill led them up the stairs and passed the bathroom which Hermione and Draco had their excursion in. Draco had been permitted to come with Harry because of his insight on the Death Eaters, mostly to Hermione's insistence. Bill led the four to the second doorway and motioned inside. The first thing Hermione noticed when she was inside the small room was the view of the ocean and how the sunset was reflecting pink off the water, and the cherry sky shone in the backdrop. It was truly beautiful here, and her heart longed to just run away with Draco and raise their child somewhere as serene at this was.

Harry was beside the Goblin before Hermione could focus on him. "I'm sorry for interrupting your rest. How are you feeling?"

"Still in pain, but mending," the little Goblin replied.

Hermione noticed now that the Goblin was clutching the hilt of the Sword of Gryffindor. Draco's eyes moved across the rubies on the handle and noticed how the creature's long fingers were woven protectively around the weapon. This intrigued Draco, and he focused more on how the Goblin was holding the sword possessively than what Potter was saying about his first time at Gringotts, and how Griphook was reminding him of how famous he was.

As they talked, Ron had pulled up a chair to the other side of the Goblin's bed, listening intently on what he and Harry were discussing. Harry hadn't brought up his proposal yet, but Draco reckoned that Griphook would use the Sword as a bargaining tool. He leaned down in Hermione's ear and whispered it to her. She looked at him, and her face was completely unreadable, but Draco knew Goblins – and he knew that Griphook would not help their cause unless he was promised something of equal value in return.

"We need to break into a vault in Gringotts," Harry told the Goblin.

Hermione noticed that Harry had spit out the words, and looked as though he was in pain. She studied him, and knew that he was seeing into Voldemort's mind again, and it sickened her that he was using the connection. But, like Draco had said: it was necessary.

"Harry –" she began, but was cut off by Griphook.

"It's impossible," he dismissed.

"No, it isn't," Ron said immediately. "It has been done before. The first time Harry visited Gringotts."

"The vault was empty," the Goblin snapped, staring at Ron now, his beady black eyes unreadable, but his tone spoke in defense of the bank. "Its protection was minimal."

"The vault we need to gain access too is not empty," Harry explained, now talking with his hands in an effort to gain the Goblin's trust. "It belongs to the LeStrange's."

The Goblin's eyes widened and he scoffed. "You have no chance, Harry Potter. You are a very odd wizard indeed."

"I'm not trying to take anything for my personal gain," Harry said to Griphook. "Can you believe me?"

"If there was any wizard I would believe, it would be you, Harry Potter," Griphook said flatly. "But, you must understand my predicament."

"There is no way you don't want him dead as much as we do," Draco said dejectedly, growing tired of the waiting game with this Goblin. He didn't mind them, but he didn't like what they stood for, and he knew he had to cut to the chase.

"You're hunted as much as I am," Hermione said softly. "I'm Muggleborn, Griphook."

"And carrying a Pureblood's child," Griphook turned to the couple. Hermione's heart froze and Draco placed a hand protectively on her shoulder. "Don't think I haven't noticed your stance about her, son of Lucius." He looked at them curiously, then back to Harry. "What do you seek in the LeStrange vault? The sword that lies in the vault is a fake; this is the real one."

"We seek something much more important," Harry replied and crossed his fingers. Ron crossed his arms and leaned back in the chair impatiently.

"You're so young to be fighting so many," Griphook said softly, looking to the four people in front of him.

"Will you help us?" Harry pressed, ignoring the passive comment.

"I shall… think about it," Griphook replied finally.

"But –" Ron began angrily, but Harry shot him a deathly look.

"Thank you," Harry thanked the Goblin.

He motioned for the four to leave the room. Draco met the beady black eyes of the creature, and gave him a look he wouldn't soon forget before closing the door behind him and retreating across the hallway to another room overlooking the sand dunes. The Golden Trio was already inside; Ron was leaning against the window with his arms crossed, Harry was pacing, and Hermione was sitting cross-legged on the bed. Draco closed the door and muttered a silencing charm before taking his place in the chair next to Hermione.

"He's a little git," Ron said furiously. "He likes watching us hang like that."

"I told you that you wouldn't get far without offering him something," Draco sneered. "When would you start listening to me, Weasel? I have been right about everything so far… I normally am."

"Shut up, Malfoy, you're only here because of Hermione," Ron started, but Hermione shot him a look that silenced him and Draco snickered.

"I don't think Bellatrix knew it was Horcrux," Harry said absently. "He trusted them, so he probably told them it was a treasured possession or something along those lines. I mean, he didn't tell your dad about truth about the diary, Malfoy."

Draco shrugged. "He's a secretive bastard, Potter. Surely you must know this by now… or not."

Harry ignored him. "Gringotts is the safest place to store anything except for Hogwarts. Hagrid told me when I first went to Diagon Alley."

"You really understand him," Ron said crossly with raised eyebrows.

"Bits of him," Harry said softly. "Regardless, I need to speak to Ollivander. Come on, Ron."

Harry motioned for his best friend to follow him out. Ron did, sending a look of pure hatred towards the couple near the bed. Hermione's gaze sank down to the blue comforters until she felt the mattress sink beside her and saw Draco's khaki's.

"Why does Potter need to talk to Ollivander?"

Hermione sighed. "He's becoming… obsessed with The Elder Wand. When we went to visit Lovegood – don't look at me like that – he told us about The Deathly Hallows."

Draco nodded. "I told you, five months ago, if I remember. Why don't you listen to me?"

Hermione faced the man she loved, a look of contempt on her face. "I didn't trust you then, Draco. Don't put me in this position."

Draco looked at her apprehensively before continuing. "Ollivander will only tell him that The Dark Lord has it and it truly exists. Did you not tell your precious Order that I told you this?"

"I did," Hermione said softly. "It wasn't my fault they chose not to act on it. I know you're right, Draco. Now, stop trying to get me to inflate your already huge ego."

Draco snickered. "There's no limit to my ego inflation."

Hermione rolled her eyes and put a hand to her stomach. "Scorpius Draco?"

"Might as well," Draco shrugged and scooted himself off the bed.

He sat between her legs, and rested his cheek against her stomach, encasing her in his arms. Hermione's heart almost melted at his gesture. It was so innocent, so unlike him. Draco smiled into her shirt, knowing that his son, and most rightful Malfoy heir was busy growing and getting ready for his appearance into the world. At that moment, it didn't matter that the two had hated one another growing up. It didn't matter that Hermione wasn't a pureblood. It didn't matter that they were fighting a war. At that moment, they were void of a world that did not include Elder Wands, Voldemorts, or Blood-Status.

* * *

"A prophecy?" Arthur asked Remus with a raised eyebow. "How intriguing."

Molly, Arthur, Lupin, Severus, and McGonagall sat in the Headmaster's office at Hogwarts. Snape had called the meeting because of a development at the Ministry; a prophecy had begun to swirl and glow in the Department of Mysteries. Thickneese had sent word to him not a half hour ago, and since the prophecy was of dire nature, it had to be told.

"Do you know what it reads, Severus?" asked Molly, with fear in her eyes that it was indeed about Hermione and Draco.

Snape turned himself in the chair behind his desk to face Dumbledore. "That a child will be born with extraordinarily magical abilities and will change the outcome of the oncoming war."

Molly's eyes widened involuntarily. "Surely it means Harry!"

"Harry's Prophecy was destroyed, Molly," Lupin reminded her. "It must be another child."

"It is indeed," Snape agreed, still eyeing the photo of Dumbledore.

"You knew about this?" McGonagall asked the portrait shrilly.

Dumbledore only smiled. "I always told you to find things out of yourself, Minerva. I couldn't tell you everything. It would ruin the… pleasure of the mystery."

Arthur spoke next. "Do you know who this child is?"

"Not precisely," said Snape slowly. "I'm sure it wouldn't be hard to figure it out, however."

"We must keep this child away from You-Know-Who," Arthur told the group.

"How are we to find a child in all of the world?" McGonagall asked. "Surely you must know more, Severus!"

Snape took a lasting look to the portrait of the Headmaster before returning his gaze to the group. "I know only what I told you. The Dark Lord, on the other hand, does not know of this development yet. I should hope when he does find out that this child's parents are… under safe protection from him."

"How do we even know who the child's parents are?" McGonagall demanded and crossed her arms over her chest. "It will be looking for a needle in a haystack."

"I am almost positive that they will not be hard to find," Snape replied. "After all… (he cast another look to Dumbledore) I'm sure they are… right under our noses."


	28. Chapter 28

_Sorry I haven't been updating; I went on a weekend visit to my parent's house and had a wonderful time with them._ _Regarding the story… Always leaving on a cliffhanger. What will happen when The Order finds out that Hermione and Draco are the parents? Now, that is the question! :P Let's keep going and see what happens. This chapter is kind of short – I apologize. I've been super busy with work, so hopefully it'll do._

Chapter 28:

Harry had come back into the spare bedroom to find Hermione's head on Draco's lap and Draco's fingers tracing over the pale fabric of her shirt. An uneasy feeling washed over him as he realized that Draco would be a part of their lives forever now… A year ago, a few months ago, even a few weeks ago… the thought never would have crossed his mind. He was more accepting of him than Ron was – but that was to be expected. Harry glanced back at Ron, who was making his way up from the rear, with a morbidly disgusted look on his face. Hermione looked up as the two boys entered the room and sat up slowly, peering at the wonder in their eyes.

"You found something?" she asked skeptically.

"Ollivander confirmed the Wand exists," Harry explained. "The history of it is bloody, though. Ollivander isn't sure if it needs to be passed onto the next owner by murder."

"That's barbaric!" Hermione exclaimed. Draco rolled his eyes around to meet Harry's.

"You want it." he said to Harry with raised eyebrows. Harry's lust for the Elder Wand was very apparent, and it was hard to go unnoticed.

Harry and Ron exchanged a glance before Harry slowly lowered himself down to the chair beside where Hermione and Draco were sitting. "It would be valuable."

"No!" Hermione shrieked and bound to her feet. Ron squinted his eyes at her while Draco watched her berate the boys in amusement. "Harry, Dumbledore gave you strict orders to destroy the Horcruxes! He never mentioned anything about The Deathly Hallows!"

"Maybe he wanted me to figure it out –"

"Because everything was just one big puzzle with him, right?" Hermione retorted Harry's argument like a stone across water. "If he wanted you to find The Hallows, he would have said so, Harry. You need to destroy the Horcruxes! I don't know how many times I've told you this!"

"Hermione, think of it, though," Ron started. Hermione turned to face him and Draco's gut suddenly felt sour. "An all-powerful wand."

"That won't do a damn thing to You-Know-Who unless the Horcruxes are destroyed," Hermione crossed her arms. "Seriously, Ronald? You were egging Harry on about this?"

"It's not Ron's fault," Harry piped in and stood up. "You're right, Hermione. But, we have to talk to Griphook in order for us to find the next one."

"Harry… it's an unbeatable wand…" Ron mused.

Draco knew he had to intervene. Even he wasn't stupid enough to realize that it was dire that Harry got the Horcruxes, not go after The Elder Wand. "I'll give it to you straight, Weasel. If Potter goes after The Elder Wand right now, he will be walking into a trap. I'll bet the most expensive broomstick in Diagon Alley that The Dark Lord is at Hogwarts right now. (he looked pointedly to Harry) If Potter does somehow get his hands on The Elder Wand and abandons destroying Horcruxes, then the wizardly world will fall to The Dark Lord. Do I make myself pristine or do I have to go over it slower so your pint-sized brain can catch up?"

Ron seethed through his teeth and turned as red as a tomato. "This does not concern you."

"It concerns him as much as anyone," Hermione defended Draco and put her hands on her hips.

"Hermione's right, Ron," Harry said softly. "Dumbledore didn't say anything about getting it; he didn't even mention it. We need to focus on the next target."

"Then go talk to that bloody Goblin," Draco demanded.

"Patience," Hermione laid her hand on Draco's shoulder and felt it slack. "I think this will take some time."

Harry nodded and walked out of the room, with Ron following in close pursuit. Draco pulled Hermione into a hug and smelled the scent of coconuts and orchids in her hair. "I don't know how they survived without you."

"Sometimes… I wonder that myself."

* * *

The next few days were full of arguments between Harry, Ron, Draco, and Hermione. Harry had not come to the decision not to go after The Elder Wand lightly, and it was eating at him bit-by-bit. Ron would bring it up to him when they were alone, telling him that he should have gone after it and that he could worry about Horcruxes later and that Hermione was just off her rocker because her dating Draco gave that away. In turn, Harry began to doubt his decision until he was around Hermione, who reminded him that he had done the right thing. Even Malfoy had put in his two cents and told him that Ron was high on having power and that he needed to do the right thing. In all, Harry was torn and confused. He knew both of his friends were right in their own regards, but was he?

That is where his thoughts took him as he stared out the window of the cottage's kitchen, watching Hermione and Malfoy walk along the beach in front of him. He longed for Ginny and missed her terribly… having a romance between Hermione and Malfoy made him homesick. He noticed how their fingers intertwined and the two held on like they would never let go. The way that Malfoy looked at Hermione was the same way Harry looked at Ginny. He was sure they were in love, and knew that it would be terrible when he had to go back to the Manor.

" 'Arry?" Fleur's delicate voice came behind him and she laid a small hand on his shoulder. "If you are ready, Grip'ook would like to speak with you."

Harry thanked her and walked to the door of the cottage to grab the couple's attention. "OI! Would you two come back in here for a moment?"

He allowed the two to get back to the cottage before grabbing Ron from the living space and walking up to the second floor to the bedroom Griphook was staying in. Hermione was apprehensive, and her heart was racing at the thought of being denied help from the Goblin. But, she knew they would make it through regardless – find another way. They always did.

The Goblin was waiting for them, sitting up in his bed. The curtains had been drawn, giving the room a shade of blood red to its walls. Harry closed the door behind them and came to stand next to Griphook, eagerly awaiting his decision.

"I have decided to help you, Harry Potter."

Hermione let out a sigh of relief.

"Thank you, we're so appreciative –" Harry began before the Goblin spoke again.

"But, I would like payment in return," Griphook told them firmly.

Draco shot Hermione, then Harry, and finally Ron a look of "I told you so", making sure everyone in the group had seen it before he knew it was his turn to negotiate. After all, he was quite good with these things. He stepped past Hermione and faced the Goblin full on, staring into his beady black eyes without remorse.

"What do you want?" he demanded. "I have gold."

"I don't want gold," Griphook said with a smile. "I have that already."

"Then what do you want?" Draco asked. His voice waved with authority, and he purposefully mimicked his father's tone when Lucius was negotiating.

"I want the Sword of Godric Gryffindor."

The words hit everyone except the Slytherin like fire to their soul. Draco was ready to auction the sword off immediately, but before he could agree to Griphook's terms, Harry spoke.

"You cannot have it," Harry said. "I'm sorry."

"We have a problem then," the Goblin said softly.

Harry went into a spiel about how the sword rightfully belonged to them because they were Gryffindor's, to which Draco rolled his eyes. Slytherins were never so arrogant. He met eyes with Harry multiple times, and knew Harry could tell that Draco was not amused. It was the same look the Slytherin had given his arch-nemesis all through their school years, and even though Harry was earning points and respect with Draco, he was beginning to lose them just as quickly with his stupidity.

Eventually, the meeting with the Goblin adjured so they could think of what to do. To Draco, it was quite obvious: give the little git the Sword and get into Gringotts. Problem solved, everyone was happy. But, to the three Gryffindor's, that clearly wasn't the case. Harry was pacing in front of the fireplace now, his brows furrowed and his eyes closed. Ron was talking about double-crossing the Goblin by using a fake sword which infuriated Draco.

"Are you fucking kidding me, Weasel?" he barked. "He would know the difference between the real sword and the fake better than we would! Be smart for once, would you? You're giving me a headache!"

"What do you purpose we do then since you're so quick so judge?" Ron demanded.

Draco sighed, the spotlight on him now. "We let him have the sword. But, since you need it to destroy the Horcruxes… be careful when you tell him he can have it."

Harry's eyes lit up. "Yes! He will get it, when we've destroyed every Horcrux. I'll keep my word."

Hermione's eyebrows crinkled. "Technically, you would not be lying. But, it could be quite some time before he gets it. I don't like this idea."

"Look at your boyfriend. He suggested it," Ron mused.

Hermione turned to Draco. "I don't like it."

"What choice do we have?" Harry asked and scratched the back of his head. "I don't like it either, Hermione, but we're backed into a corner here."

"Let's go tell him," Ron stood up and brushed past Draco, their shoulders barging. Hermione sighed in defeat hand they followed the redhead up the stairs.

They let Harry make the offer this time, and he worded it ever so perfectly so it didn't specify when Griphook would get the sword. The offer seemed to be good enough for the Goblin, who demanded Harry shook on it. He did, but was afraid that the Goblin would figure their game out. He didn't, however, but seemed enthusiastic about breaking into Gringotts. The four were unsure if it was a good or bad thing, but allowed Griphook his enthusiasm. After all… they needed him.

* * *

Thursday came before anyone knew it; they had spent hours locked in the bedroom with Griphook, going over plans, sketching layouts of the bank, and figuring out how their escapade would work out. There was problem after problem, issue after issue, for them to figure out and go around. Everyone in the cottage – including Dean and Luna who had remained quiet and out of their way for the most part – had begun to realize something was going on. No one had asked them what was going on – not even Luna or Dean had asked why Draco was there. They were all concerned, and their eyes and stances about them spoke the words even though their lips didn't. But, the four kept adamant about their secret and would not speak a word of their planning.

The worst part about that Thursday was that it was time for Draco to leave. Hermione had been dreading it since he had told her he was on a schedule and had to "maintain appearances." That seemed to be his choice of words to describe his predicament lately, and assured her that everything would turn out just fine. Harry thanked him awkwardly for everything that he had done to help, and Draco had just nodded in return and told him not to screw it up. Ron didn't say a word to Draco, but only stared coolly at him as he spoke to his best friend. Bill and Fleur told him to wish his mother hello and good wishes, and that Andromeda sent her love. As Hermione led Draco outside, she couldn't help but notice even the sky had turned a smoky shade of grey in protest of her love leaving her… again. The wind had picked up, blowing the salt from the sea across the beach, and pushed the waves roughly towards the sandy masses in front of them. There was a storm coming.

"What's your cover story?" Hermione asked as the two walked slowly down the waterfront.

Draco peered at her from beneath his eyelashes, noticing how uncomfortable she was. "My mother told me she would figure that out. You know I have to leave, Hermione. We've been over this."

"It doesn't feel right," Hermione mused softly, a twinge in her heart. "You should be here, you should be –"

"Allowing you to risk our son's life and your own by breaking into Gringotts and standing idly by while you do it?" Draco demanded crossly. Hermione clamped her lips shut. "I never said I liked the idea, and I truly don't."

"It's the only way," Hermione replied.

"I know," Draco said crisply. "But I won't be here to see you do it. Merlin's beard, Hermione… do you realize what we've just planned?"

Hermione nodded. "I do. But, it had to be done. I want to end this… I want a better world for our son, Draco. And it won't be where You-Know-Who has won."

Knowing he couldn't argue with her, Draco took her hand and spun her around to face him. He studied how her chocolate eyes examined his own, how her fingers were intertwined with his, and the softness of her skin. She made him feel like a thousand men, begging for her remorse and affection.

"I love you," he whispered and planted a kiss on her forehead. She closed her eyes. "I need to go."

"I know," Hermione breathed, careful not to disrupt their moment.

Draco pulled away from her and backed a few steps away, still holding onto her fingers as though he was holding on for dear life. "Take care of Scorpius."

He let her fingers drop, and it was like slow motion as he locked eyes with her. The last image he saw of Hermione was her brown curls sweeping across her face in the breeze, a grey sky in the background, and tears in her hazel eyes. Hermione watched as Draco spun on the spot and within a moment, he was gone. Just like that. Again.

She fell to her knees, staring at the spot Draco was not two seconds ago, clutching her stomach and feeling a tear slide down her left cheek. It hurt… her heart felt like it was shattered into a million pieces again. She knew that getting into a relationship with Draco was not going to be an easy challenge, but through all the pain and heartbreak she had endured, Hermione felt like she couldn't go through him leaving again. It would without a doubt, kill her.

* * *

Draco landed past the Anti-Apparation wards just outside of Malfoy Manor. When he opened his grey eyes, he noticed that there was a slight rain falling from the sky, just enough so a heavy mist hung in the air. It was nothing compared to the ocean breeze he had felt just moments ago, and with a glance up to the sky, he saw the grey clouds ascending upon his home as well. Draco took a breath, tempted to Apparate back to Shell Cottage, back to Hermione and his son… But, he knew he couldn't do it.

And did it hurt him. Every time he was forced to leave Hermione, it stung worse than the Cruciatus. Instinctively, the young man gripped the handle of his wand and walked up the stone pathway leading to the Manor. He passed through the wards as if going through a bubble, and with a flick of his wand, the black iron gates opened for him. There were guards surrounding the exits, and all he had to do was give the fearsome Death Eater's a look before they backed away to allow him entrance into the Manor.

Nothing had changed since he had been gone. In fact, he was welcomed by his mother and father, which surprised him. Narcissa was dressed in a long navy gown and her hair was down to her waist, curly as ever. Lucius looked tired, and only bid him hello before he took his leave, presumably to visit Voldemort again. Narcissa led her son to his wing of the Manor, and Draco noticed that she was anxious. She practically pushed him into his room before he could say a word.

"How did it go?" she demanded before Draco turned around to face her.

"You knew, didn't you?" he asked, his lips moving before he could process what he was saying.

Narcissa smiled, only slightly. "Of course I did. And it is true, then? She is carrying our heir?"

Draco slowly sat down on his bed, the sheets sinking beneath his bottom. He hadn't quite had the chance to process that Hermione was pregnant – not with the scheming to break into Gringotts, that was. He ran his hands over his blonde hair and down his face before taking a deep breath.

"Yes," he nodded slowly. "Yes, she is."

Narcissa almost squealed with delight, and she quickly crossed the room and sat beside her son, putting an arm around his shoulders. "Son, this is wonderful news!"

Draco looked at his mother. "How?"

"A child brought into this world, by any means, is wonderful," Narcissa explained to her son defiantly. "The time will come soon enough where you can raise the baby without interference. Did you decide on a name?"

Draco sighed. "Scorpius."

Narcissa smiled warmly. "After the constellation, I presume?"

"Scorpius Draco Malfoy," Draco tried the name out on his tongue and realized that he quite liked it before nodding. "Mum… Per Pureblood custom… I have to marry her, don't I?"

"Yes," Narcissa nodded slowly, yet gravely. "It is a requirement. Is that what you want to do?"

"As long as it keeps her out of harms way," Draco surrendered to his mother.

"Draco," Narcissa said sternly, squaring his shoulders so he faced her. Her eyes bore into his with the most intensity he had ever witnessed. "She won't be out of harms way until The Dark Lord is defeated. Of that, we can be absolutely certain."


End file.
